


Become a Ghost

by hardlyfatal



Category: Bleach
Genre: Complete, Drama, F/M, Romance, Romantic Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-05-25 07:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 128,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6186694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlyfatal/pseuds/hardlyfatal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orihime dies. Arrancar? No, appendicitis. Between the weekly pub crawls with the lieutenants, Women's Association meetings, and- oh yeah, seeing patients- Orihime builds a new life in Soul Society. But on the horizon, something looms... and she will have to sacrifice herself, yet again, to save those she loves. Orihime/Byakuya</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

 

When a Hollow killed Keigo, Rukia was forcibly made aware of how all of her friends in the real world would eventually reach that moment decreed by Fate, and die.

The solution, as much as such a quandary could be solved, came to her one evening while she ate dinner with Byakuya. Dinners were always spent in silent communion with one's meal, as were lunches and breakfasts, so Rukia's faint gasp of realization was noticeable in the peaceful room.

Byakuys looked up from his meal and glanced at her inquiringly. But Rukia felt ashamed that it had taken her so long to realize that living people had a much shorter existence than the dead, and shook her head, a tiny smile on her wan face.

One by one, each of her beloved comrades would fall, be it to violence or illness or simply old age. The knowledge set a burning ache to start in her chest, until she came to the understanding that though they might die, they would be travelling to Soul Society and thus they could be together once more. They would never be entirely lost to each other.

Except...

"Nii-sama," she began, and set her chopsticks on the exquisite laquered holder beside her plate while waiting for his acknowledgement.

"Rukia," he replied. His own chopsticks were placed with care on his own holder, and then the entirety of his attention was on her.

"Nii-sama, is there any way for a soul to retain its memories after konshou?" She tried so hard to make her face blank, to match his eternal calmness, but distress made the muscles beneath the skin rebel. Without permission, her eyes widened, and her jaw set hard.

Byakuya studied her for a long moment before getting to his feet with his usual graceful economy of motion and leaving the room. Rukia waited, because his plate was still half-full (or was that half-empty?) and it was odd even for Byakuya to leave without a single word. After an hour, however, it became clear to her that he would not be returning to finish his meal. In fact, she did not see him again for the rest of the evening.

But in the morning, resting atop the neatly-folded pile of her shinigami uniform when she awoke, was a scroll tied with a silk ribbon.

 

* * *

**Chapter One**

"I really don't feel well enough to go, Tatsuki-chan," protested Orihime for the third time, pulling back on her arm, which was at the moment firmly in the inexorable grasp of her best friend and being yanked in the direction of Sado's humble apartment.

"You say that every time," replied Tatsuki intractably. "You haven't attended a movie night in months." One Friday night every month, one member of their group of friends would host a munchies-and-movies night on a rotating basis

"I do not say it every time!" Orihime felt wounded at what she considered to be a slanderous statement. "Usually I say I'm too busy. Which I am," she amended, lest Tatsuki think she was making that up, too. "Medical students are kept very busy, you know!"

"You cannot possibly be so busy that you can't spare one evening a month to meet up with your closest friends, with whom you have literally risked death, several of whom you have also literally brought back from the dead." Tatsuki's mouth was an uncompromising line as she towed Orihime up the stairs. "Everyone is worried about you." She knocked on Sado's door, on the other side of which could be heard voices and music.

That instantly flooded Orihime with intense guilt, as Tatsuki had known it would. "Oh, how awful of me. I didn't realize! Were they sobbing? Were they wringing their hands?"

Tatsuki had no time to answer; the door opened to reveal Ishida Uryuu, at whom Orihime flung herself in remorse. "I'm so sorry! It'll never happen again, I promise! Don't do that to your poor hands!"

Uryuu, well used to such outbursts from his friend, patted her soothingly on the back, giving Tatsuki a glance of inquiry.

"She's afraid you've been wringing your hands from worry because she hasn't attended a movie night since March," the other girl explained with a grin as she removed her coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

"Ah," was all Uryuu said, but he extracted Orihime's face from his shirt and guided her toward Sado's disreputable sofa. "We weren't quite to the hand-wringing stage yet, Orihime-san, but we were wondering if we'd done something to keep you away."

Orihime gasped and looked quickly up at him; he was smiling, which meant he was joking. She sighed in relief. "No, never, Uryuu-kun! I just have been very, very busy with medical school! It's my last year, so there are labs and grand rounds and exams and internships and-"

"I know, I know," he interrupted gently. "Just next time, if you can't come, call one of us so we know not to expect you, all right?"

She sniffled. "I will," she said in a small voice, then brightened as she sniffed the air around them. "Ooh, has Sado-kun made his nachos again?"

"Un," said that worthy gentleman as he exited the kitchen with a gigantic, steaming-hot platter.

Orihime mounded a paper plate with chips slathered in meat, cheese, and guacamole (Sado's specialty) and slouched back into the shabby depths of his ancient sofa. Around her, her old friends from high school bustled in various levels of noise (Chizuro being the loudest, Sado of course the most silent) as they helped themselves to nachos and drinks.

Uryuu was helping Sado distribute the food, and Mizuiro was busily texting one of his legion of girlfriends in between sips of cola. Across the coffee table, Tatsuki and Chizuru were arguing over what movie to watch. Chizuru was loudly proclaiming the excellence of one 'Bring It On', specifically mentioning the many well-toned young actresses in cheerleading outfits featured in the film. Tatsuki was advocating for any movie except 'Bring It On'.

Orihime had done her level best to miss most of them for the past five years. It wasn't that Orihime didn't want to see her friends. Truth be told, the longer she went without spending time with them, the more she missed them.

It was just that in the year since she'd sworn off any feelings other than the platonic for Kurosaki Ichigo, she found it easier to simply avoid being in the same general vicinity as he. If she couldn't see him, or hear his voice, her poor neglected heart didn't get all stirred up and begin to ache with wishful thinking. It hurt too much, and made her act weird around him, which made him uncomfortable, which made everyone else uncomfortable.

Fortunately, he attended the munchies-and-movies nights even more rarely than Orihime did. His law school studies (as well as his continued substitute shinigami participation) kept him insanely busy. Orihime counted on this to keep from having to pass more than "Hi, how's it going?" with him. So far, her luck had been quite good with this.

A heavily-laden nacho halfway to her mouth, Orihime felt a familiar reiatsu approaching Sado's apartment, and realized with dismay that her luck had finally run out.

She jammed the nacho into her mouth and looked around for something to keep her busy while Ichigo burst into the room with his usual one-two punch of spiritual power and force of personality. The coffee table held a promising array of music-based periodicals; Orihime snatched up the latest  _Rolling Stone_  and, pulling her knees up to her chin and hiding her face behind the magazine, tried to immerse herself in a list of The Best Singers Of All Time! (Otis Redding was #8? Fascinating!)

She'd just stuffed another nacho into her mouth when a long finger pushed down the magazine a few inches. Orihime knew that finger. Her heart sank a little more.

"Hey, Inoue," said Ichigo, the same little smile on his lips as always when he addressed her.

"Hey, Kurosaki-kun," Orihime mumbled around her mouthful of nacho. There he was, as bright and shining as always, and the neglected bit of charcoal in her chest gave a sad little thump. The muscles of her face struggled to maintain composure, and she nudged the magazine from under Ichigo's finger to bring it between them again.

 _Go away, go away,_  she chanted in her head, willing him to go talk to Uryuu or Mizuiro. A sick feeling, a sense of longing and frustration, was rising in her belly like usual. If he didn't go away, she didn't know what she'd do. She might cry, or jump up and start shouting, or fall to her knees and beg him to love her. The longing turned to self-loathing, for her weakness and clinginess. She wished she could reject this stupid, pointless love; she wished she could reject  _herself_.

But he just stood there in front of her. Orihime knew he wore that brow-creasing frown of confusion, that he was trying to figure her out.  _ **Please**_ _go away_ , she begged silently, bringing the magazine so close to shield her face that it brushed her nose.

"For god's sake, Kurosaki," said Uryuu, sounding disgusted, "can't you see Orihime-san is trying to read? Stop hovering over her like a dark cloud."

 _Uryuu to the rescue!_  He never said a word about it, but she knew those sharp eyes of his missed nothing, not the least of all being her ridiculous, persistent feelings for 'that orange chucklehead', as he called Ichigo. She peeked over the top of the magazine and found Uryuu looking at her. She sent him a big-eyed gaze of gratitude, which he returned with an eye-roll of his own, which made her grin. Not for the first time, Orihime thanked her lucky stars for having him in her life.

"But we've already seen 'Bring It On' a million times before!" Tatsuki was protesting.

"You should talk, all you ever want to see is Jet Li movies!" Chizuru shot back, causing a fiery blush to cascade across Tatsuki's face. It was a poorly-kept secret on her part that she was crushing hard on the Chinese martial arts star.

"Chizuru wants 'Bring It On', Tatsuki wants Jet Li, Sado wants 'Pink Floyd's The Wall', Ichigo wants 'Much Ado About Nothing'," recounted Mizuiro with a little grin. "Uryuu wants a romantic comedy, Orihime wants either horror or sci-fi-"

"Aliens! Chainsaws! Aliens  _with_  chainsaws!" Orihime interjected with a weak fist-pump, trying half-heartedly to make up for being anti-social.

"-and I want an erotic thriller," he finished with a smirk. "We never agree on anything except-"

Sado lifted a DVD case from the top of the TV and opened it, then popped its contents into the player. An underwater scene began playing.

''- 'Finding Nemo'," they all intoned at once, sighing.

"I always cry when Coral and the eggs are eaten," said Orihime.

" _We know_ ," said everyone else. Sado handed her a tissue in preparation for said scene of pathos.

So Coral and the eggs got eaten, and Orihime duly sniffled into her hankie. The sick feeling in her middle from before, from when Ichigo had arrived, hadn't entirely left, and in fact seemed to be worsening as time passed. Orihime put her half-uneaten plate of nachos down and poured herself a glass of ginger ale, hoping it would settle her stomach, but by the time the credits were rolling she felt worse than ever.

"I'm pretty tired from all my exams," she lied, standing and reaching for her jacket. If she told them the truth about feeling unwell, Tatsuki or Ichigo- or even Tatsuki  _and_  Ichigo- would insist on accompanying her home, and she just wanted to sink into bed and maybe moan a little.

They both tried to bully her into letting them walk her home anyway, but Orihime was adamant. Ichigo's presence was unbearable, and Tatsuki would just lecture her on the need to move on from him (as if she didn't already know).

"See you all next month!" Orihime said cheerily, beaming as bright a smile as she could manage around the room before scampering out the door.

It was only a little past 10 o'clock; the night sky above was clear and calm and should have gone far in helping Orihime feel better, but before she was halfway home the ache in her belly had become a searing pain that had her gasping. This was no mere case of indigestion; she was blazing-hot and shaking with chills at the same time. Perhaps she should go to the hospital instead of home. She turned and headed north, hands clasping her belly as she paged through her mental files for what could be happening to her.

The sallow flickering lights of the supermarket, as she approached, were making spots dance in her vision. There was no way she'd make it on foot to the hospital. Orihime began fumbling for her cell phone, meaning to call 119 for an ambulence, but her hands weren't working properly and the phone fell from her clumsy fingers to smash on the asphalt.

Pain lanced through her, strong enough to send her to her knees. Her vision was fading to grey, but just before she crashed face-first to the ground, she saw someone approaching, blurring flashes of blue and white. She barely heard a shout over the roaring in her ears, and footsteps pounding toward her, and then everything just... went away.

 

* * *

 

"Call it," said a man.

A sigh, then a woman replied, "11:02pm."

Orihime opened her eyes to find herself flat on her back, a bright light glaring down into her retinas while the group of people- doctors and nurses, she recognized by their blue scrubs- ranged around her started to drift away. The woman began to do something by Orihime's face, finally pulling away with an intubation set. It was obvious she'd just removed it from her patient's mouth, but Orihime had felt nothing.

Their words echoed in her head, and she quickly sat up. There was a strange sensation, as if she were pulling free of a sticky residue, and Orihime whipped her head around to see that, though she was sitting up, her body was still laying flat behind her. She turned to face front again, and the motion set something on her chest to swaying and clinking. Eyes down, she saw with horror a chain, about a foot long, suspended from a square plate affixed between her breasts.

She swung her legs over the side of the gurney. The legs of her body remained just where they were, stretched out flat. Gasping- for what? did she still need to breathe?- Orihime jumped off the gurney but her knees felt rubbery, unable to hold her up, and she fell right through a doctor, then hit the wall, leaning heavily against it for support.

"So sad, to die from a ruptured appendix," commented a nurse with a shake of the head. "She was graduating in two weeks."

Oh, god.  _Oh, god._  She was dead, really dead. This wasn't like ten years ago, when her soul had left her body but stayed alive with her chain intact. Her chain was severed. This was permanent. She was  _dead_.

Orihime started gasping again, and her head went woozy as she slid down the wall to plop in a tangle of legs.  _No, no, no!_  It was the only word her brain could form. She didn't have time for this! She had things to do! Food to eat! Museums and zoos and aquariums to visit!  _People to heal._

When Orihime had declared pre-med as her major in college, Tatsuki had made her promise that she would treat all her injuries, and when she had a baby, Orihime had to be the one to deliver it! Now who would deliver Tatsuki's babies? A stranger? Some unknown person with uncaring hands, tending to Tatsuki during that precious, delicate time? A deep mourning for what now would never be ripped through Orihime, and she  _howled_.

"Are you becoming a Hollow so soon? Will I have to purify you myself?" The chilly contempt could only belong to one person. Orihime looked back over her shoulder to see Ishida Ryuuken standing in the doorway of the now-empty examination room, one eyebrow raised in his usual supercilious manner.

She dashed the tears from her cheeks and clumsily hauled herself from the floor. The doctors and nurses had left the room at the arrival of the hospital director, and it was just Ryuuken, Orihime, and Orihime's body. It looked more and more tragic every time she looked at it, limp and frail and white. She'd worked so hard to keep it strong and healthy, and now it was worthless.

"Not quite yet, Ishida-sensei," she managed croak, and grasped the end of the chain. "I was just, uh, upset."

"I assume you have some unfinished business?" He ran an expert eye over her chain, gauging its length. "You look to have another two days before Hollowification."

"I know."  _Not enough time._  But then nothing short of eternity would ever be enough time, not for those she loved so dearly. "Would you do me a favor?" The white eyebrow quirked again. Orihime took that as conditional assent. "Could you prevent them from calling my next-of-kin? I want to tell them myself. It'll... it'll go easier on them if I do it personally."

Ishida-sensei nodded once, and strode from the room. Orihime followed at a slower pace, darting one last glance at her poor defunct physical body. At the front desk, he was telling the nurse not to bother with notifications for Inoue.

"I'll do them myself, as a friend of the family," he said.

"Ishida-sensei, I didn't know you and Inoue-san were that close," said the nurse, her eyes a little starry at conversing with the handsome (if frosty) hospital director.

"She would have made a fine doctor. This is a sad day," he replied, gaze locked with Orihime's. She blinked in surprise at the compliment, then bowed to him in thanks. His nod was barely perceptible, but definitely there.

He turned from the nurse and murmured to Orihime, "If you go Hollow, I'll take you down, myself."

She had to smile, just a little. "I'd expect no less, sensei."

Then she squared her shoulders and went to tell her friends that she was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Orihime wandered the streets the rest of the night. She saw various other plus spirits, even waved at them before continuing on her way. She visited the sewing store where she and Uryuu liked to get their supplies, the parks where they'd had so many battles, the high school that had been the sole common link between all of them.

She wondered if, when Sora-nii-chan had died, she'd gone away to live with her aunt instead of staying in Karakura. How would her life had differed? She'd never have come to love Ichigo, never developed her spiritual powers, never met Rukia or the other shinigami, never been kidnapped by Ulquiorra... so many amazing and frightening and wonderful things, and she'd have done none of them.

Was that... wistfulness that Orihime felt? Did she wish that had been the case, that she'd remained a normal person (well, as normal as Orihime was bound to get) instead of the girl who could raise people from the dead? But then, without her, so many people would have not been healed, or restored to life... shame at such a selfish thought filled Orihime, and she trudged on through the night.

A crackling split the air, and with a roar that made the shop windows tremble, a Hollow thrust itself through the barrier between Hueco Mundo and the living world. It looked like a praying mantis, with big buggy eyes that rolled wetly as it scoped out the vicinity for tasty souls to devour.

Orihime, with the ease of long practice and expertise, thought,  _Koten Zanshun_ , and Tsubaki streaked forward to effortlessly split the hapless Hollow in two. It dissolved into the night just in time for straw sandals and black hakama to appear in Orihime's down-tilted vision.

"Ah, Nakai-san, hello," she greeted the shinigami assigned to Karakura Town that month.

"Hardly any need for me here, between you and the others killing all the Holllows for me," he joked, smiling until he noticed her life-challenged state. "What happened, Inoue-san?"

"Appendicitis," she admitted.

"And you a doctor!" Nakai exclaimed. "I am sorry." His hand went to the hilt of his zanpakuto, the seal on the end of the hilt already glowing in preparation of konshou.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to go yet, Nakai-san." She was able to summon a watery smile. "Don't worry about me, I'll get there in time!" She even managed a fist-pump, though it was lacking its usual energy.

He nodded. "I'll check back with you in-" he too assessed her chain "- two days. Please be ready by then." He leapt away into the overcast night.

The sky was lightening; it was almost morning. Saturday mornings were busy for Tatsuki at the dojo, and she was sure to be there early. Orihime couldn't put off telling her best friend for too much longer, but first, maybe another turn around town...

When the sun was fully risen and shining warmly over Karakura, Orihime forced her feet toward the dojo. Since buying it from her former instructor, Tatsuki's business degree had held her in good stead, and the dojo was enjoying success. The down side, however, was that it kept her there almost 24 hours a day. She even slept on the couch in the office, though she mentioned about once a week that she needed to get her own apartment.

Tatsuki was indeed in the second-story office, a wad of papers clenched in her fist and a pencil behind her ear as she peered far-sightedly at her computer monitor.

"Tatsuki-chan, I need to talk to you," Orihime said from the doorway.

"Sure, Orihime, just give me a-" Tatsuki's swift glance up from the monitor froze, then slowly returned. She wasn't as spiritually aware as her friends, but she knew that Orihime appearing before her with a chain dangling from her chest was  _not good_. "What- Orihime, what-"

"I'm dead!" Orihime tried to make it cheerful, grinning witlessly and rubbing the back of her head. "Stupid me, last night wasn't indigestion, it was appendicitis!" She knocked herself on the forehead a few times. "Oops."

Tatsuki darted from behind the desk to stand in front of her friend. Her eyes were huge and horrified. "Orihime, no. No!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry!" But she couldn't maintain the facade for long, and her grin faded as tears began to choke her. "I'm sorry." Tatsuki grabbed her, hugged her hard. "I'm really sorry, Tatsuki-chan."

This time, it was not Orihime who howled. Tatsuki threw back her head and wailed, tears running down her cheeks. Orihime cried right along with her, until they were both exhausted and shaking.

"We have to tell the others," Orihime said at last. She felt as limp as an old dishrag. Dying itself, in such pain, had been bad enough, but this emotional stuff was even worse, if that were possible. "They need to know."

Tatsuki nodded, looking a bit limp herself. "Give me a second. I'll send out an email to all the students and instructors, saying the dojo will be closed until further notice."

"Oh, but I don't want to cost you so much money!" Orihime protested, waving her hands.

Tatsuki just levelled a flat, unhappy glare at her. "Seriously? Orihime, some things are more important. I can afford to take a few days off because you  _died_."

Orihime hung her head. "I guess I just don't want anything to change. I want you happily running your dojo, not upset and worrying about me."

"Too late for that." Tatsuki typed rapidly for a minute, sniffling wetly the while, then rose from her chair.

They walked through the incongruously cheerful morning, Orihime silent, Tatsuki using her cell phone to call everyone and request a meeting at Orihime's apartment. As soon as they arrived, Orihime went to the kitchen to make tea and Tatsuki expended some frustrated energy by rearranging the furniture so there was enough seating for everyone.

As she filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, Orihime took the opportunity to look around her little kitchen. It wasn't much- a med student earned basically nothing, so it was all ancient fixtures and appliances of dubious pedigree- but it was  _hers_.

How many times had she cooked something delicious for herself here? Or something less delicious, but which Tatsuki would actually eat, for her friend? This was the same place she'd lived in all through high school and college, during all the fighting and war. Rangiku-chan and Toushirou-kun had lived here with her, the three of them jammed in together like puppies in a pile, and she had  _loved_ it, had loved that feeling of family and belonging.

And soon it was going to be someone else's home, because Orihime was dead and she could not come back and there was no way out of it. She clenched her fingers around the edge of the sink, head low, and fought to suppress yet another bout of tears.

A knock on the door, and then their friends were crowding in, noisy and chattering at once, like usual. Chad's bass rumble, Uryuu's lighter tenor, and between them-  _just right_ , she'd always thought- was Ichigo's baritone. Mizuiro and Chizuru had come as well.

"Where's my Hime-chan?" demanded Chizuru, and soon they were all baying for her to come out. It made her smile just a little, and she used the hem of her shirt to blot her face before squaring her shoulders and stepping into the other room.

* * *

Their smiles of greeting faded almost immediately, when they noticed they could see the kitchen door  _through_ Orihime, except for Chizuru, who couldn't sense spirits at all.

"What's going on?" she demanded loudly, grabbing and shaking Mizuiro's arm. "Why is everyone so scared of the kitchen door?" She thought a second. "Hey, did the kitchen door just open and close by itself?"

Tatsuki slumped onto her corner of the sofa, but everyone else leapt to their feet.

"Inoue," Ichigo breathed. He was just as tall and handsome as ever, and just as unreachable. There was some sort of barricade around Ichigo's heart, and Orihime had driven herself to distraction in trying to find a way past it. She'd tried finding a key, jumping over, and even blasting through its walls, but the barricade seemed impenetrable. And now she was dead, and would have no more time to try to breach it.

"What happened?" Ichigo ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up even more wildly. "Was it a Hollow? Where the  _hell_ is that new shinigami, I'll-"

Uryuu stared, looking positively thunder-struck. "I knew you weren't just tired last night," he said. "I thought it was-" He cut himself off, darting a glance at Ichigo before turning back to Orihime. "But you were sick."

Chad reached out and pulled her into his massive arms as tears rolled down his cheeks. Mizuiro dragged Chizuru aside and whispered an explanation to her.

"What? Dead? My precious Orihime?" the girl shouted, looking wildly around.

"Kurosaki-kun," Orihime interrupted gently, prying herself from Chad's grasp and wringing her hands, "it was my appendix. It ruptured." She met his burning gaze, saw in it his desperation to have been able to fix it. "There's nothing anyone could have done."

Another tense silence, marred only by the faint chime of Orihime's chain as it swung from her chest.

"What will you do now?" asked Uryuu. He stepped closer and placed a hand, light as a bird's feather, on her arm.

"I'll get a  _konshou_ and go to Soul Society." She stared down at where she was twisting her fingers together. "I just wanted to let everyone know myself. And... and say goodbye," she finished in a rush, her throat no longer working as the tears came again.

Uryuu's arm came around her this time, with Chad pressing up close to her other side. After getting a translation from Mizuiro, Chizuru stumbled across the room, trying to find them. Chad took her hand and guided it to Orihime's shoulder, and for the first time, the girl didn't try to cop a feel, instead simply holding on to the invisible person in front of her and weeping. Tatsuki stood and made her way over as well, not touching Orihime, just staring.

But Orihime had eyes for no one but Ichigo. His warm brown eyes were burning with misery and regret. "Kurosaki-kun, will you perform the soul burial on me?"

He reared back as if she'd struck him. "Inoue..."

"Please, Kurosaki-kun. It's the only thing you're able to give me."

The others averted their eyes, aware they were in the middle of something that should have been private. Ichigo looked confused, but everyone else knew exactly what Orihime meant. Ten years of loving him, fighting by his side, and he remained as stubbornly oblivious as ever.

The apartment door banged open, then, to reveal Rukia. She was panting, chest heaving from what appeared to have been a mighty exertion.

"That was fast," murmured Uryuu, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Nakai is Sixth Division," she said. "When Orihime refused to let him perform the soul burial, he contacted Nii-sama, who told me." The others drew back as she approached Orihime. "I'm glad you remembered to wait for me!"

Truth to tell, Orihime had recalled no such thing. She had just wanted to say goodbye and have Ichigo be the one to do her  _konshou_. But now that it was mentioned, she did remember Rukia saying something about waiting for her if any of them ever died. "Er..."

"You didn't remember!" Rukia shrieked. "Orihime! That was  _important_!"

"Don't yell at her!" Ichigo roared back. "She just fucking  _died_ , Rukia!"

That sobered her, and she turned to Orihime with a bow of apology. "I'm sorry, Orihime-chan. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine, it's fine," Orihime said, having to make an effort to keep an edge from her voice. Abruptly, she felt exhausted, and wanted the whole thing done with. She understood that everyone was very upset on her behalf, because they loved her, and she felt so lucky and, and  _rich_ to have so many wonderful friends. At the same time, it was  _her_ death.  _She_ was the one who had died, and she wasn't feeling inclined to play referee between them because they couldn't prevent themselves from kicking up a fuss.

"Why was I supposed to wait for you?" she asked Rukia.

"So I can seal your memories to your soul, so you don't forget everything," Rukia replied quickly. "And then, I'll teach you how to send a message with a hell butterfly, so when you arrive in Soul Society, I can find you right away."

It sounded like a great idea; it sounded perfect. Why, then, was Orihime feeling like maybe, possibly, she didn't want to do it? The idea of starting over fresh, without the heavy baggage of this lifetime, was... actually pretty tempting. She closed her eyes, and thought about it for a moment.

No recollections of her abusive father and negligent mother; none of poor Sora and the guilt that still lingered after so much time. Ah,  _guilt_ , her constant companion for the past dozen years. No more guilt over being the weakest of their group of fighters, no more guilt about Hueco Mundo.

And no more loving someone who was never, ever going to love her back.

Once, Orihime thought she wanted to love Ichigo for five lifetimes. Somewhere along the way, she realized that she had already loved him five lifetimes' worth, and it hadn't made a lick of difference. And she had begun to resent him, for his thick-headedness and obstinance and sheer obliviousness, and to hate herself for being unable to withdraw from this hateful, hurtful, pointless,  _useless_ love.

She'd tried avoiding him, but their friends had all asked why.  _Ichigo_ had asked why, and what could she tell him? That she loved him so much that she hated him? That the sight of him was so joyful and so painful that it made her want to live and die and swim and drown and fly and crash, all at the same time?

So Orihime kept quiet about it, and put on a cheerful face, and buried herself in her studies. If she had to study all night instead of going out with the group, that was just normal for a med student, right?

No more faking it, now. No more cheerful face or excuses needed. Orihime was dead, and she didn't have to see any of them ever again. She didn't have to think about the ugly painful parts of her life, or her brain or heart, anymore. Relief felt like a trickle of cool water down her back on a hot day.

"Orihime-chan?" Rukia's tiny hand was cool on her wrist. Orihime opened her eyes to find everyone staring at her. Rukia must have seen something worrying in her eyes, because she got a look of resolve on her face before turning to the others.

"I need to talk to Orihime. Everyone out." She began herding them out the door, ignoring their protests, using her foot for greater force in shoving the increasingly-belligerent Ichigo into the hallway.

"Even me?" asked Tatsuki, coming forward, looking concerned.

"Even you," Rukia said, her voice gentler than with the others. "Come back later, she'll still be here. I promise."

Once Tatsuki was gone, Rukia turned to Orihime, hands on hips, very determined. "Now, then," she began, before shooting an irate glance over her shoulder. "I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING AT THE DOOR! FUCK OFF, ICHIGO!"

"BITCH!" he snarled back, and then his footsteps stomped off down the hall to the stairs.

Rukia concentrated a moment more before being satisfied that they were finally alone. "Now, then," she repeated, guiding Orihime to sit on her own sofa. "Besides being dead, of course, what's wrong?"

Orihime took a deep breath. "Of course, you're so kind and nice and generous for taking the time and effort to come here to seal my memories to my soul. But, but, but, I'm thinking possibly I, uh, maybe don'twanttoremember." She spit out the last few words in a rush, afraid that if she didn't say them fast, she wouldn't say them at all.

Instead of the disappointment or shock that Orihime expected, Rukia only smiled sadly, and took one of Orihime's hands in her own. "I understand," she said, and Orihime thought maybe she really did. Her own life hadn't been that great, either. "This is a decision you have to make for yourself, and I won't push you in one direction or the other. But please try to remember that for every bad thing you'd be forgetting, there is at least one- maybe more- good thing you'd also be losing."

Orihime thought about that for a while. She could do away with her bad memories of her parents, her guilt about Sora and Hueco Mundo, and her fruitless love for Ichigo... but she'd also lose Tatsuki, and red bean paste, and sewing with Uryuu, and Chad's beautiful Spanish guitar music, and how many people she'd healed and saved with her Shun Shun Rikka. She'd lose knowing she had fought the good fight, risked her life and survived being a part of a war that had literally saved the world.

And she'd leave behind an entire group of people who would be devastated because they no longer meant anything to her.

Orihime knew in that moment that she couldn't do it. She still somewhat wanted to, but she just couldn't do that to them. It wasn't just the people themselves, but the relationships she'd built with them, and the memories that went along with them. They were precious, and losing her memories of them felt like she would be throwing them away, discarding them like the trash Ulquiorra claimed they were.

So she lifted tear-drenched eyes to Rukia, and said, "I'll do it." Life was all about sacrifices.

It seemed like death was, too.

* * *

That evening, everyone assembled in Orihime's apartment once more.

"So now you know how to summon a hell butterfly. The  _kidou_ I will perform now will save your memory at the precise moment it takes effect. Once you wake up in Soul Society, you won't remember anything that happens after it's complete." Rukia said before they arrived. She smiled gently. "So make sure you do absolutely everything before I begin it, you don't want to forget anything important."

Orihime nodded, and went to open the door to her friends for the last time. They bustled in, a somber group laden with packages.

Mizuiro gave her a lovely brush-and-comb set for her hair; Chizuro, half a dozen satin brassieres that had Ichigo shouting even as he slowly turned a mottled purple.

"But I don't know if they have proper support garments in Heaven!" Chizuro protested tearfully, for once seeming genuine and not lecherous. Orihime thanked them both graciously.

"For Orihime-san, so she doesn't get bored without any hobby materials," Uryuu said as he handed his parcel to her with one hand, the other pushing up his glasses. His gift was a beautiful sewing kit in the form of a multi-tiered lacquered box. It contained scissors, needles of every size and purpose, measuring tape, beeswax rounds to slick embroidery floss, and an entire rainbow of brilliant silk thread on slim wooden spools.

It was so perfectly Uryuu- thoughtful, useful, beautiful- that Orihime hugged him until he gasped for breath. Still, he smiled to see how happy she was to receive it.

Chad needed to unwrap his gift himself; he shucked his jacket, then rolled up his right sleeve to reveal the new tattoo on his shoulder: a blue six-pointed flower in the exact shape of Orihime's hairpins. Curving over the top of the flower was the name "Orihime" in cursive Romanji, and yesterday's date- the day she died- curving below it. She hugged him too, and this time she was the one gasping, as his strong arms curled around her.

Tatsuki handed her a gigantic photo album filled with pictures from all their years as friends. "I had them reprinted onto acid-free archive paper, so they won't get yellow or decay for decades. Maybe longer." Orihime didn't trust herself to look through them, knowing the photos would make her sob hysterically.

"Tatsuki-chan," she whispered, and reached out to her friend. Tatsuki grabbed her, and they rocked back and in forth in each other's arms for long moments, the room silent but for the sound of sniffling. Chizuru, Rukia, and Chad were crying quietly, Mizuiro and Ichigo were staring fiercely in opposite corners, and Uryuu was simply watching them, sorrow softening his sharp blue eyes.

When the girls released each other, they turned automatically to Ichigo, the only one left who hadn't presented anything yet. His eyes were burning again. Orihime wondered, not for the first time, or even the thousandth, what he was thinking when his eyes blazed like that.

"I don't have anything good enough to give you," he rasped, digging in his pocket. "This is the only thing I can think of that comes close." He stuck out his hand, palm up; in it lay his substitute shinigami badge, the item he had used to focus his Fullbring and eventually regain his shinigami powers.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime breathed. "Your badge! But it's so important to you!" Her hands came up, and she backed away a step.

His customary glower deepened, then relaxed. "Then you'll have to take it, to keep it safe for me." He even managed the smallest of smiles.

Orihime felt faint, just for a moment. This could have been a moment of true progress for him, for  _them_. And it came about because she was  _dead_ , and there would be no chance for her to work with it. Honestly, her life was so ridiculous, it was almost like a comedy show.

She kind of liked that idea: "The Inoue Orihime Comedy-Mecha-Ninja Hour" definitely had appeal. She took the badge from Ichigo's hand, and laughed.

Time for final goodbyes, then. Orihime's smile soon faded as each of them came forward for one last hug, and a few last words. She allowed Chizuru one last grope. She kissed the boys full on the lips, even finding the courage to plant a good long one on Ichigo, to his immense shock.

"I'm ready," she told Rukia. "Let's do it now, so my last memory is of me happy."

It took under a minute; Rukia chanted, there was a flash of violet light and a little  _ping!_ in the recesses of Orihime's brain, and it was done.

Orihime took the badge Ichigo had just given her, and gently pressed it to his chest. His vacant body fell back to the floor, and his soul stood before her in its  _shihakushou_ , Zangetsu poking up over his shoulder.

He plucked it from his back and reversed his grip on it so the hilt was held forward, the konsou seal already starting to glow. To her shock, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss between her eyes, just where he would lay the seal. "Goodbye, Inoue."

Orihime managed a smile for him, reaching up to touch his cheek with her fingertips as he brought the hilt to her brow. "Goodbye... Ichigo."

And then she faded away.


	3. Chapter 3

Orihime awoke lying flat on her back, staring up at a blue sky with fluffy white clouds skidding across it. She sat up and realized she was in the middle of a dirt road. The buildings to either side were old-fashioned and plain, but not in too bad a condition. She wondered where the heck she was.

Then she wondered  _who_ the heck she was.

And then, with a click she could almost hear, her memories dropped back into her mind like flower petals drifting down, down, down.

For a moment, the sheer  _weight_ of them pressed her down, threatened to crush her beneath them. Orihime took deep breaths until the sense of oppression eased, and got to her feet. She bent over to bat at her clothing, to brush the dust off, and lying on the ground at her feet, saw-

"A zanpakutou?" The hilt-wrapping was the same blue of her hairpins, and the guard was a six-pointed flower in their shape as well. She picked it up and felt a hum buzz through it into her hand. There was a sensation of warmth, and a feeling of rightness. This sword was meant to be in her hand; it had been created solely for her use. Well, at least she knew where her future lay: clearly, a career as a shinigami was ahead of her, if she wished.

 _Did_ she wish? Orihime gazed around at her dreary environment and thought,  _I don't_ **have** _to send a hell butterfly to Rukia. I don't_ have  _to let anyone know where I am. I might not be able to forget, but... maybe I can start new, anyway._

She liked the idea so much that she decided to consider it seriously, at least for a while, and began to explore her surroundings.

Upon turning a corner, she found herself in what must have been a main thoroughfare. After wandering down it for a few minutes, she made her way toward an old woman running a vegetable stall.

"Excuse me, where am I?" she asked with a polite bow. "Which district?"

"Ah, just got here?" the woman commented, gifting Orihime with a toothless grin. "You're in East Rukongai, district 41."

"Thank you!" Another bow, and Orihime was on her way once more. District 41 wasn't too  _too_ far from Seireitei, was it? She could take her time and walk there and enjoy her last lingering moments of anonymity before contacting Rukia. She shaded her eyes and peered into the distance, trying to figure out which way was west.

Orihime was beginning to see that her plan was not as straightforward as she'd hoped- after walking for a very long time, it was now long past dark, she was starving, her feet hurt, and she'd only just left District 41 and entered 40. On top of those problems, she'd noticed an increasing number of men following her, their expressions best described as "predatory". Orihime was used to men looking at her with appreciation, but this had a more feral edge to it that made her nervous.

She'd been busy, as she walked. She'd tried calling on her fairies but none had appeared. She had a zanpakuto now, instead of the hairpins, so perhaps they didn't exist any more? Or existed solely in the zanpakuto's private world that Ichigo and Rukia, even Renji, had mentioned... Orihime supposed she'd have to meditate, once she found a peaceful spot, to see about that.

She'd also given some thought to her idea about not contacting Rukia. There didn't seem much point to it- these Rukongai districts were immense; it would take her months to work her way to Seireitei, and in the meanwhile, how would she live? If she weren't going to settle down, she couldn't establish a way to make a living, earn money for food and lodging for herself.

And, gods help her, she was lucky enough to have 'contacts on the inside'. Retaining her memories as she did, she wasn't forced like the rest of these poor souls to eke out an existence because of lack of alternative. Orihime had choices. It seemed, well,  _stupid_ not to avail herself of them. She uttered the incantation Rukia had taught her, and a hell butterfly appeared, its wings dark velvet against the surrounding night.

"Hi, Rukia-chan, it's Orihime! I'm on the main street at the border of Districts 40 and 41 of East Rukongai." After recording it, she had to give an address, so the butterfly knew where to go. So many hours after her death, she didn't know where Rukia might be just then. It seemed safest to send it to her home, so she said, "The Kuchiki Estate, Seireitei-"

"Oy, everyone, she knows someone on an  _estate_ , she does," mocked one of the men who'd been following her for the past hour.

She'd been so occupied with the butterfly, she'd forgotten to pay attention to her surroundings.  _Stupid_. Then she noticed that being interrupted had made the butterfly disappear. Had it had enough information to be sent? Drat.

"Excuse me," she told the men politely, and began to walk away briskly, hoping her businesslike stride would dissuade them from pursuing her.

She hadn't gotten a block before their steps were pattering behind her once again, closing in fast. She thought,  _Santen Kesshun,_ and felt rather than heard the familiar hum as her shield sprang into place. She spared a moment to expand its size until it stretched from one side of the road to the other, completely cutting off traffic, and then broke into a run. It wouldn't take long until they got over their surprise and simply went around the buildings on either side of her barrier.

As she ran, she reformed the shield every time she passed another set of buildings, always keeping progress down the main street blocked with her shield. Footsteps to either side, however, told her that at least two of the men were quite speedy and able to keep up with her by taking unblocked side streets. Eyes darting to her surroundings, Orihime saw that one of the closer buildings had a small covered porch, and she dashed for it, forming her shield across the open front of it just as the men reached her.

As Orihime caught her breath, the rest of the men caught up to where she had barricaded herself. They poked fingers at the glowing gold shield, and when they saw that touching it didn't hurt, began to push and then beat on it.

"So cold," one of them jeered. "And here was us wanting to give you a warm welcome to the afterlife."

"I can maintain my shield for hours," she told them. "Maybe days. Do you really want to bother trying to get through?"

"C'mon, honey, we just want to have a good time," another of them said, grinning and leering as he pounded on the shield.

"Good for who?" she shot back. "Don't you have anything better to do than try to rape strange women?" If Orihime had that kind of spare time on her hands, she'd pick up another hobby or work on achieving inner calm or something.

Orihime heard some thumps from within the house, behind her, and realized they were trying to get to her from inside it.  _Ugh_. Persistent little buggers.

"I didn't want to have to do this, but you gave me no choice," she told them sadly, and formed  _Shiten Koushun_ on the outside of the other shield, then reformed  _Santen Kesshun_ behind her just as the door opened at her back. The chatty fellow in front of her struck out again, expecting nothing different-

-but it was a different shield, this time, and he was forcefully thrown back to land on the far side of the street.

The other men stopped assaulting her shields to gape, then scrambled back to avoid coming into contact with them.

"You can't stay in there forever, bitch," one of them hissed. "We can wait."

"Enough." A deep voice rumbled the word down into the street from above.

Orihime reared back, peering into the shadows clustering around the rooftops. Across the street, at the very peak of a roof, stood Kuchiki Byakuya. As she watched, with a strong sense of surreality to have him come to her rescue (as it were), he stepped off the roof and drifted, as lightly as a  _sakura_ blossom, to the dirt road below. Orihime thought it looked very dramatic and wondered if he'd planned it like that. It was certainly an exciting way to make an entrance.

His gaze was fixed on her. "You should have just killed them when they first gave chase, instead of wasting your time with shields."

Her attackers, for their parts, were staring in horror as they began to understand their newly-grave situation. A shinigami had arrived; no, not a mere shinigami. A  _captain_. Their lives were forfeit, and they knew it.

"Ahaha," said Orihime. "You know I don't like to kill if I can help it, Byakuya-sama."

Byakuya slid a dismissive glance over the cowering bunch. "It would be a mercy to such as these." He didn't move a muscle, but Orihime could feel his reiatsu burgeon, spiking until the men choked and dropped, falling unconscious in the face of such immense power.

Once they were all down, Orihime dropped her shields, fore and aft. She wished she could tidy herself up without seeming obvious about it. After her long walk, then more recently her panicked run for freedom, she was sweaty and dusty. Next to his impeccable person, she felt even sweatier and dustier. "Thank you for helping me! Can I ask what you are doing here?"

"I received a butterfly with your direction," he replied. "I presume you meant to send it to my sister; however, it was delivered to me."

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said. In spite of having known him for ten years, it was hard to know how to behave near Byakuya. Rukia worshipped him, Ichigo was his usual irreverent self, and Renji's opinion seemed poised on a dagger's edge between admiration and terror. It didn't help that Byakuya was the least emotive person she'd ever met.

His facial expressions ran the gamut from A to C: there was his default bored look, where he appeared 30 seconds from falling asleep; there was his semi-alert 'I'm paying attention but couldn't care less' look; and there was his mildly surprised 'Hm. Wasn't expecting that' look. Right now, he was sporting the semi-alert face, and Orihime knew it was associated with a very limited amount of patience, which she in no way wished to tax.

"Please excuse my mistake," she said politely with another bow. "I apologize for disturbing your evening."

"Hn." His chin tilted down so it was no longer aimed so pointedly at the sky, which Orihime took as an indication that he wasn't looking down on her  _quite_ as much. "You will come with me to await Rukia." It was not a question or a suggestion.

He held a long, pale hand out to her, in which she assumed she was to place her own hand, which she did, after a brief hesitation. The moment she had, the world blurred around her, and they were moving.

They would come to a stop on the occasional roof between one flash-step and the next, but it all went so fast, without the comfort of oblivion. In spite of the slight sensation of queasiness it made her feel, Orihime was quite accustomed to travelling under the force of another person's shunpou, and quite enjoyed it- the landscape flying by, the wind in her face.

She gripped his hand tighter and took comfort in its strength, in the solid feel of the bones beneath the skin. They paused on another roof, then, with a pause that was a tiny bit jarring, not flawlessly smooth like the others. Byakuya shot a questioning glance down at their interlaced fingers. She just smiled at him.

"This is fun. I'm almost sorry we're almost there."

Somewhere along the way, Byakuya had acquired a fourth expression, because he was giving her a face with slightly frowning brows but the barest hint of smirking lips- like he was wondering silently about her sanity and finding it not only lacking, but amusing. She decided to call it "Face D", and hoped she'd see it more often, because it made him a lot less daunting and more approachable.

Then they shot into motion again, even faster than before, so quick it almost stole the breath from her lungs. They had begun taking steeper trajectories up and dives down, and though the Kuchiki estate was in the south of Seireitei, she could have sworn that they were heading northeast, because that was definitely Eighth Division they were flying overhead right then- even in the dark, Kyouraku-taichou's pink haori on one of the rooftops was like a beacon.

She realized, in an instant, that Byakuya was taking her for the shinigami's version of a joy ride, and joyous it was, too- exactly what she needed after her death. Throwing back her head, grinning into the wind, she gave herself up to the exilaration, to the wind and the night and the stars, to death and rebirth, and whatever fate might have in store for her from this point forward.

"Thank you," she whispered to him, though she had no idea if he could hear her or not. "Thank you, Byakuya-sama."

She felt their angle change into a swift descent and flawlessly gentle landing, and opened her eyes to see they were standing at the edge of a wide, covered veranda. With a blink, she looked around and saw they were in the familiar surroundings of the Kuchiki estate. In the middle of the absolutely massive compound, the pond rippled serenely before them, orange-gold koi of considerable size glinting in its depths. In the distance, Orihime could hear the rushing of the river that bisected the grounds.

A servant emerged from where he'd apparently been lurking in wait for a moment exactly such as this, and Byakuya murmured some instructions to him. The servant scurried away after an obsequious bow, and Byakuya pushed the  _shoji_ screens to open wide the entire exterior wall of a room. Inside was sparsely decorated, with a long low table around which six plump silk-covered seating cushions, zabutons, were placed. He entered and seated himself at the end of the table; with a gesture, he indicated that Orhime was to sit as well.

"Rukia went in search of you," he informed her. Orihime felt guilty for worrying Rukia. Was there censure in Kuchiki-taichou's voice? He sounded as flat and neutral as ever. "She will return soon." He watched her for a long, silent moment, his slate-gray eyes never leaving her face as a servant entered and arranged a tea service before them. "Why did you not contact her as arranged?"

Orihime opened her mouth, fully intending to spout something about forgetting how to perform the kidou to summon and use a hell butterfly, but he added, "I will have the truth, if you please."

 _Well_. Feeling resigned and rather put-upon, Orihime sagged a little. Might as well tell him the truth; he already didn't like her much, so what did it matter? "I didn't want to remember my life in the first place."

"Then why did you? You had only to refuse to allow Rukia to attach your memories." He sipped from his tea cup, sounding as politely interested as would a matron at a society affair with a mere acquaintance which, Orihime supposed, was all that they were to each other. Mere acquaintances.

"I couldn't. I felt... obligated to remember. For my friends. I owed it to them, for all they've done for me, to remember them. It would hurt them too much, knowing I didn't remember them, knowing that I would be out there somewhere and they were strangers to me." And oh, how she still resented them for it, when rebirth and oblivion had awaited her.

"So, from a sense of duty." At her nod, his eyelids drifted closed.

Empathy: that was unexpected. Encouraged, Orihime forged on. "So, when I got here, and remembered everything, I wanted... I don't know, I wanted some time before I had to be myself again."

"I understand," he commented, and there was something in his voice that told her he knew exactly what she meant. She recalled that not only was he a captain, but the head of an extensive noble house, with all the myriad important responsibilities that entailed. She wondered if he ever got any opportunity to get away and pretend, as she had done for such precious few hours.

"I feel a lot better after that trip back here, so it all seems so pointless and petty, now," Orihime admitted. "I'm so much luckier than most people- I get to remember and continue to have my wonderful friends from when I was alive- who else can say that?"

Byakuya opened his mouth, ostensibly to reply.

"No one else, that's who!" she answered before he could speak. In her excitement, she was leaning forward onto the table, her prodigious bosom resting lightly on its surface. His gaze flicked down to it for the merest second before he schooled it up once more, an automatic reaction to two forces of nature.

In truth, he wasn't thinking about her boobs, or her body at all- he had just arrived at the realization that Inoue Orihime was a kindred spirit. Byakuya was a very intelligent man and could see right through her perky act- in spite of her animation and declaration of fortunate circumstances- that she was still quite traumatized by her death, by the end of all her plans, and by having to retain her memories for the sake of her friends instead of embracing the sweet oblivion she craved. That cheerful façade was just that, a shell masking her true emotions.

Byakuya knew precisely what that was like. He'd spent the past 125 years doing the same exact thing, only his shell was a deadpan, stoic exterior concealing the fiery conflagration that raged inside him. He didn't think he'd ever conquer the passion of his true nature; 125 years, and there were still days when he felt like unleashing all that fire, and let the pieces fall where they may.

Then he'd recall his familial duty, and all the promises he'd made. There was one thing that bound him more strongly than the frustration and wildness in his soul, and that was his sense of responsibility. As long as he had a duty to head the Kuchiki clan, and be a Gotei captain, and generally be an emotionless automaton as was required by the noble ideal of protocol and dignity, he would rein in his impulses and present a bland face to the world.

Someone had to; it wasn't as if his sister would, nor would he want her to. He rather liked her exuberance (not that he'd ever reveal that to her). He also liked Orihime's general mien of kind and chipper friendliness, for that matter. It was like a middle finger upthrust in the face of all the clan elders who continued, at his age, to warn him of the dangers of random and untamed emoting.

As if in punctuation of this concept, in the distance came a thud, and the patter of rapid footsteps on tatami.

"Rukia is home," he murmured into his teacup just as the  _fusuma_ door was tossed to the side and Rukia appeared, wild-eyed. Seeing her brother in residence, she immediate schooled her features and stance into something more becoming her station, and entered the room with a layer of calm spread over her agitation.

"Nii-sama," she said respectfully, before dropping to her knees before Orihime and yanking the other girl into her arms. "I was so worried." Grasping her arms, she thrust Orihime away to run a critical eye over her before hugging her fiercely once more. "But you're safe? You're safe."

"I'm fine," Orihime gasped, laughing and hugging her back. "I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you weren't too worried."

"I  _was_ worried, and you'll have to make it up to me," countered Rukia with a grin.

"Byakuya-sama was kind enough to fetch me when I sent the butterfly," Orihime explained with a bow toward him. He nodded back and continued to drink his tea while watching them. Rukia added her own bow of thanks. He nodded serenly in return.

"Nii-sama, I request that Inoue-san be permitted to stay here as our guest-" Rukia began.

"I have already had a room prepared," he said, looking bored. This time of night, where else would she go? Besides, though he suspected she was somewhat unhinged, she was not an unpleasant person. In the decade of his acquaintance with her, she'd proven herself a steadfast and kind friend to Rukia, as well as a trustworthy person in general. He had no objections to her residing in his home for a duration.

Rukia appeared thunderstruck; then her expression melted into one of grateful adoration. "Of course Nii-sama would think of that. Thank you!"

Orihime bowed in gratitude. "Yes, thank you very much, Byakuya-sama!"

A servant slip open the fusuma door. "The bath you ordered for your guest is ready, Kuchiki-sama."

Orihime stood. "Oh, I can't wait," she said in heartfelt tones. "Thank you again." She stood quickly, and fairly ran from the room.

The servant led her down the hall, around a corner, and down another hall. "The bathroom is here," she gestured to one door, then to another across the hall. "And your room is here. Rukia-sama's is just besides yours. If you need anything, please call."

The bathroom was a spacious, wood-panelled affair with large  _furo_ tub in the center, steam rising in lazy spirals from the hot water's surface. A clean  _yukata_ was folded neatly on a nearby bench beside a pile of towels. Orihime stripped faster than she ever had in her life, scrubbing and rinsing until she was pink, and then sank down into the water with a sigh. She was asleep almost immediately, only waking when Rukia pounded on the door.

"Did you die in there? Come out, already!"

Orihime departed from the wonderful  _furo_ with great reluctance, promising to return to it soon, and pulled the yukata over her refreshed body before bundling her dirty clothes up and leaving the bathroom. Rukia pulled her into her new bedroom, which instead of being empty as Orihime had expected, contained a lot of bags and sacks and one or two boxes.

"Tatsuki-san and Ichigo insisted on sending along all your clothes and, well, anything remotely portable." She scowled as she plopped down on the tatami floor. "I had a time carrying it all here, let me tell you. Those idiots. I had to make Renji help me."

"Thank you so much, Rukia-chan," Orihime began, kneeling beside her. Her vision blurred as the tears started. "For everything. It's far too much, what I've asked you to do-"

Rukia hugged her. "You didn't  _ask_ me to do any of it. And it's my pleasure. We're friends, Orihime-chan. You'd do the same for me." She nodded toward where Orihime's sword had been leant against the wall. "A zanpakuto already, eh? No real surprise there."

"It makes it feel more real, having one for myself at last," Orihime admitted. "I'm really dead. I'm in Soul Society not on a visit, but forever, because I'm  _dead_." She scrubbed at her eyes, trying to eradicate the tears. "How is everyone?"

Rukia picked at a loose thread in her  _hakama_. "I won't lie to you; they're miserable. Ichigo somehow thinks it's his fault, the moron. I swear, all the fighting has given him brain damage." She scowled at the mere  _idea_ of the young man. "They're human, they've been told all their lives that death is the end, no matter what they know of Soul Society now. When they finally come to believe that you're not gone forever, and they'll see you again, they'll feel better."

She hopped easily to her feet. "You should get to sleep, now. It's been a long and difficult day for you, I'm sure you're tired. Let me put out your bed for you."

Ignoring Orihime's protests, Rukia went to the cupboard that stretched across one wall and extracted the futon stored within, tossing it to the ground so it unfolded into a sleeping mattress. Sheets and blankets, with one or two expert flicks, were put into place; a pillow was plumped and deposited at one end. It was done.

"If you're up early enough, you can have breakfast with Nii-sama and I, but don't worry if you're not. Get up when you feel like it, and ask for breakfast when you like."

A brisk kiss on the cheek, and Rukia was gone. Orihime dug into the bags around her until she found a pair of pajamas, then pulled them on. For the first time, she experienced the oddness of feeling real world matter against her spirit matter body; the cloth of the pajamas felt strange, almost like they were vibrating against her skin. Or maybe it was her skin vibrating against the stillness of the cloth. Whatever it was, it was not entirely comfortable, and Orihime removed them, putting the yukata back on before climbing into bed.

Despite being a futon on the floor, it was divinely comfortable- no less for any guest of the Kuchikis, of course. The sheets were cotton, but as smooth and supple as the finest silk; the quilt was perfection itself, neither too light nor too heavy. Orihime made herself two promises: one, to find out how exactly the quilt was made with such precise balance, and two, to obtain one for Uryuu. Now, there was a man who could appreciate the finer points of quilting.

It was while in the midst of these warm thoughts of Uryuu's general excellence that Orihime, exhausted, passed out.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Orihime woke after noon and felt pretty good, all things considered. Rukia and Byakuya had already long departed for their respective divisions, and Orihime was alone, if by 'alone' one meant in a huge mansion with a dozen distant Kuchiki relatives in their own private wings, and several dozen servants.

She flagged down one of those servants and asked for instructions on how to procure some lunch (having missed breakfast by hours), even suggesting she'd make it herself. The servant's expression of horror, and fervent protests that she would bring lunch to Orihime, was such that Orihime quickly backed down and simply asked for directions to the room where she was supposed to eat the lunch. It seemed an awful lot of fuss just for a little rice and an omelette.

Once in the dining room, she parted the shoji screens to open the space to the outdoors and sat down to lunch. The chopsticks hadn't quite made it to her mouth when a small pinkish blur skidded to a stop beside her.

"Yachiru-chan?"

"Hi, Jiggles!" Yachiro exclaimed. "Shorty told Scribbles who told Pachinko-head who told me that you died and were staying here." Orihime interpreted that to mean "Rukia told Renji who told Ikkaku..."

"Ah, yes!" Orihime replied. "I'm sorry, I was going to come see you soon. I'm happy you came to visit me here!"

"Oh, I didn't come to see you," Yachiru said cheerfully. "I wanted to ride my scooter in the hallways." She pointed to the object dumped on its side, one handlebar blithely digging up the exquisitely tended sod of the garden. "And maybe see Byakushi, if he's here."

"I'm surprised Byakuya-sama lets you do that." She knew Byakuya would permit no such thing.

"He doesn't," said Yachiru, still cheerfully. "That's why I do it when he's away." She put a finger to her chin and looked to the ceiling, considering. "Though sometimes he comes home early and finds me here. That's when he throws candy out the window so I can jump up and chase it!"

Orihime bit her lip, struggling not to laugh. Poor Byakuya. Then she noticed that Yachiru was eyeing her in an almost-unfriendly manner and sobered.

"Jiggles, I just thought of something," Yachiru said with a frown, concentrating hard. "Are you living here because you're gonna marry Byakushi? Cuz I'm gonna tell you right now, he's mine."

Orihime's eyes flew wide. "Er. No. I'm staying here because I'm friends with Rukia-chan, and it's only for a little while. Once I figure out what I'm doing with my future, I'll probably move out."

Yachiru scrutinized her for a moment longer, and then her expression lightened into its one of usual mischief. "Okay, then! Hey, you want to ride my scooter with me?"

"I wish I could! But I'm having lunch right now." Orihime thought it actually sounded a little fun, though.

"Tch," was Yachiru's reply, sounding very much like Kenpachi himself when he was irritated. "I guess you're not going to let me ride my scooter in the hallways, either?"

"I'm sorry, no." Orihime aimed for the right balance of regret and authority and seemed to have gotten it right, because Yachiru just heaved a woebegone sigh.

"No one lets me have fun," she complained.

"No one ever?" Orihime teased, tickling her until she giggled. "I think it's just the opposite. I think Byakuya-sama is the only one who doesn't let you have fun."

Yachiru looked at her like she was crazy. "He gives me candy and meat buns all the time, before I even have to ask. He doesn't talk much, just like Ken-chan, which is good cuz it annoys me when men yap a lot. Yun-yun sometimes talks so much I wanna cry. Yun-yun sometimes talks so much he makes  _Ken-chan_ want to cry, though if you tell anyone that I'll have to beat you up. But Bya-kun doesn't talk too much, plus he gives me candy, plus he's pretty. He's perfect."

 _Well_. By the logic of a sugar-addicted seven-year-old, Orihime had to admit that Byakuya was looking rather good.

"You're right, Yachiru-chan. It sounds like a match made in heaven." She had no doubt that  _Byakuya_  would probably want to cry were he to know that he was Yachiru's 'perfect' man. She felt an almost overpowering impulse to tell him just to see the expression on his face. But since the amusement she'd feel would soon fade in the wake of the words "Chire, Senbonzakura" and then she would die- again- she resigned herself to having a private memory to giggle over to herself in spare moments.

It took a substantial number of sweets, brought by a servant from one of Byakuya's stashes around the manor for exactly that purpose, to get Yachiru to leave. Once she had, Orihime had wanted to explore the house and grounds a bit, but she'd hardly finished her interrupted lunch when the gong at the front gate sounded.

"You have a visitor," a servant informed her. "She identifies herself as Matsumoto Rangiku-fukutaichou-"

"Orihiiiiiiiiiiiiime-chaaaaaaaaan!" that woman shrieked as she shouldered her way past the servant to fling herself into Orihime's arms.

Orihime was no less thrilled to see Rangiku, and together they bounced up and down in delight for a full minute.

"I'm so glad you're here! But I'm so sorry you died! But I'm so glad you're here!" Rangiku exclaimed. "Rukia stopped by on the way to her division to let me know. I wanted to come hours ago, but Taichou's so mean, he wouldn't let me go until now!"

Orihime noticed the servant standing by silently, and realized the woman was waiting for instructions. "Rangiku-chan, do you want tea?"

"Ooh, tea in the Kuchiki manor! Don't mind if I do!" said Rangiku, plunking herself down on a silk zabuton and leaning back on her hands to survey her surroundings. "Pretty posh in here, eh, Orihime-chan?"

Orihime nodded to the servant, who whisked herself away in search of the needed tea, and seated herself. "I'm kind of scared of breaking something," she admitted with a grin. "I try not to touch anything."

"What's it like to live with ol' Kuchiki-taichou-sama-dono? Gorgeous creature, but Hyourinmaru only wishes he could be that frosty."

"Actually, he's been nice," Orihime said, and flopped forward to lay on her belly, propping her chin on her hands. "It's... unnerving."

"I'll say," said Rangiku, eyes wide. She stacked zabutons until she could comfortably sprawl on her side over them. "What does 'nice' look like on him?"

Orihime had to think about that. "He hasn't said anything mean. In fact, I think we actually had a conversation last night. I'm taking it as a victory."

"You had a conversation? With Kuchiki-taichou?" Rangiku was incredulous.

"Well, it was a very small one. Maybe only two or three sentences each. But it had a definite beginning, middle, and end, so I'm counting it." Orihime pursed her lips in thought. "He seems more... relaxed here at home. Maybe we've only seen him be difficult before because those were stressful moments... fighting, warfare, et cetera. Not exactly times where you want someone laughing it up."

Both women paused to consider the idea of Byakuya 'laughing it up'. It boggled the mind.

"Renji-kun has said before that, when things are calm and peaceful at the Sixth Division, Kuchiki-taichou isn't bad; sometimes he even cracks jokes, which apparently aren't very funny," said Rangiku after a moment. "But that's Renji-kun saying that, and I have reason to believe his sense of humor isn't what it could be, either."

They snorted in amusement at Renji's expense. Over at the Sixth, Renji sneezed twice in quick succession.

"But enough about them," Rangiku continued. The tea arrived then, and they took a moment to fill and take their cups before getting comfy again. "How did you die? More importantly, how do you still remember who you are? And what are your plans, now that you're here?"

"My appendix burst," recounted Orihime with a grimace. "No time to do anything about it. I remember because Rukia came and did a kidou that bound my memories to my soul beyond konsou." She slurped at her tea. "As for plans... I have no idea. My zanpakuto has manifested already, so I guess I'll join the Gotei."

"Eeeee, you should join the Tenth!" squealed Rangiku, bosom bouncing in glee. "You know my taichou would let you join in a heartbeat, he loooooves you!"

Orihime doubted that Hitsugaya Toushirou 'loved' her, though she was sure he was reasonably fond of her, as she was of him. "I don't know, with my abilities and medical training, don't you think the Fourth would be a better fit?"

"Tch." Rangiku waved that idea away with a languid pass of her hand. "Bo-ring. All you'll get to do is sweep streets and shovel sewers. I say you milk this sweet deal-" she waved her hand again, this time to indicate the Kuchiki manor "-as long as you can, and only get a job when there's no alternative."

"I'm not very good at sitting still, Rangiku-chan," Orihime protested. "And knowing I could be helping people feel better, but I'm loafing around all day instead- that would make me feel very guilty. I think I was given these powers for a reason. Not to use them feels... wasteful."

"Wise words, young lady," rumbled an aged voice from the garden beyond the walls. Both woman turned to find an old man, gray-haired and wrinkled but with the upright carriage that screamed 'nobility', standing at the edge of the veranda. "I am Kuchiki Ginrei. May I join you for tea?"

Both women got to their feet and bowed to him. "Of course, Kuchiki-sama," Orihime said, and hurried to pour him a cup. "It's your house!"

Ginrei seated himself on a zabuton with slow dignity. "Not anymore," he said, and accepted the tea. "That ownership has now fallen to my grandson."

"Ah, you're that Ginrei!" exclaimed Rangiku, with a moment of clarity. "The former captain of the Sixth, before the current Kuchiki-taichou!" Then she blushed at the rude informality of her speech before this respected veteran of the Gotei squads.

"I have that honor, yes," he confirmed. "I believe one of you is a guest in our home. Since you wear the shihakusho," he nodded to Rangiku, indicating her own membership in a squad, "then I will assume you are she." This was finished with a second nod at Orihime.

"Yes. I'm so grateful to stay in such a beautiful home." She bowed to him in thanks, which he returned with an amused-seeming nod.

"In reference to one of your previous comments... yes, my grandson is far more personable when in a relaxed environment like his home, compared to a professional one."

The women blinked in surprise.

"You, uh, heard that?" Orihime asked weakly. Rangiku shot her a mischievous 'oh no!' glance across the table.

"Every word," said Ginrei, sipping his tea. "I have discovered, in my old age, the myriad joys of eavesdropping. The things I hear provide me hours of entertainment. I'm disappointed I didn't pick it up as a hobby decades ago." He held out his cup for more.

Orihime gave him a refill and tried to control the plummet of her stomach. Had she and Rangiku been hideously disrespectful? She desperately hoped not, it would be horrible if she offended Ginrei or Byakuya with a clumsy attempt at a joke...

"Rest assured, I won't tell him what I heard. None of it was insulting or untruthful, after all. I am given to understand that many women indeed find him a 'gorgeous creature', which I will take as a distinct compliment to myself; his demeanor is indeed chilly; and his sense of humor takes some getting used to before it can actually be understood as funny."

"I- I can see where he gets his looks, Ginrei-sama!" Orihime blathered into the silence that followed the elderly man's pronouncement. "He has your eyes. They're lovely!" Then she cringed at how silly she sounded; it was all true, but still. Gah.

Ginrei turned those very fine eyes to her. "Are you flirting with me, young lady?"

She went the color of a beet, and held up her hands, palms out, in demurral. "N- no, Ginrei-sama! Uh! Not that I wouldn't, because even at your age, you're a handsome man! Not that your age is so great that you're too old to-! But I wouldn't dare to presume-!" She darted a frantic glance at Rangiku, who was shaking against her cushions, helpless with laughter.

His lips turned up in a faint smile. "Young lady, be at ease. I was only teasing you. I know you weren't flirting with me. Teasing, too, is a new hobby I have acquired of late. Seeing your reaction, I wish I'd taken it up years ago, as well." He ran a practiced eye over Rangiku, who lay back against her heap of zabutons, trying to catch her breath. "And I do dearly love to make an attractive woman laugh."

Then he leaned toward Rangiku and added, "And that  _was_  me flirting with you, young lieutenant-san." Unable by her very nature to resist flirting back, Rangiku's eyelids lowered to half-mast as she gave him her patented seductive smile technique.

The two of them then commenced a ribald réparté that had Orihime's gaze bouncing back and forth between them like she was at a tennis match. Watching Byakuya's grandfather and Rangiku put the moves on each other was nothing short of horrifying (yet weirdly fascinating at the same time) and she felt torn between watching raptly and wanting to flee.

From her position closest to the door, she heard a servant greet Byakuya. Oh, for the love of Kami, thought Orihime in chagrin, and leapt to her feet. "I'll go ask for more tea, shall I?"

They had begun discussing swordwork and positioning- and oh, how Orihime hoped that was literal and not some tortured metaphor for sex- and paid her no attention whatsoever. Out in the hallway, she was dismayed to find Byakuya just about to enter the room, and she fetched up hard against him.

"I swear to you," she whispered miserably to his chin, not daring to meet his gaze, "I had nothing to do with this."

His sole reaction was to quirk a sleek black eyebrow before stepping past her to slide open the door and enter. With a resigned sigh, Orihime followed him in.

Rangiku and Ginrei were standing, but she was bent forward at the waist as he leant over her from behind, one hand around her waist and perilously close to her bosom; the other over her hand as it gripped the pommel of her drawn zanpakuto. Byakuya's gray eyes, every bit as lovely as his grandpapa's, were flat as he observed the scene.

"Ginrei-ojii-sama. I see you are in good spirits today." Byakuya's tone was utterly neutral, conveying nothing to indicate his mood at this uncommon discovery. Orihime marveled at his control; had it been her to discover her aged grandpa doing odd things with a voluptuous woman in her sitting room, she'd have been torn between laughing and crying and probably given in to the urge to do both.

Also, had Byakuya intended his dry commentary to be that funny? Because Orihime felt a bubble of semi-hysterical laughter in the back of her throat and had to clench her teeth against giving in to it.

"Quite good, my boy," agreed Ginrei, straightening from his compromising position with Rangiku. "I was just giving Fukutaicho-san, here, the benefit of my many years of experience to show her how to reach a fuller extension with her sword."

"Indeed." His gaze flicked to Rangiku, who was trying to tuck herself more discreetly into her overburdened kosode. "My grandfather has been enjoying the relaxation of his customary inhibitions, since retiring from the Gotei."

Orihme took that to mean that Ginrei-sama had been going daffy since leaving his captaincy.  _Heehee._  She clenched harder.

"But it is growing late." Left unsaid were a myriad of things: it was almost time for dinner, Ginrei was sure to be getting tired, Byakuya wanted some peace after a long day's work, but they all added up to 'Rangiku needs to GTFO'.

She took the hint, and with bows of farewell to the Kuchiki men, got going. Orihime escorted her out. "Old boy still has plenty of life in him," Rangiku whispered in Orihime's ear as that girl blushed and pushed her out the door.

"I'll see you soon!" she promised, and shut the door in Rangiku's laughing face. Then she pressed her hands to her own face and slumped against the door.

What if Byakuya blamed her for Rangiku's shameful behavior with Ginrei? Orihime might as well start looking for somewhere else to live; she should shack up with Rangiku, in that woman's lieutenant's quarters at the Tenth. It would only serve Rangiku right. She knew better than to be indiscriminate with her come-hither looks; there wasn't a straight man alive who could resist them.

Orihime opened her eyes to find one of the servants standing before her, the same woman who had brought them tea earlier. Her face was sympathetic.

"Don't worry, young miss," the woman whispered. "Byakuya-sama is aware of his grandfather's ways. He is a kind man; he won't blame you for them."

Orihime stared. This was the first time any of the servants had spoken to her outside a bare minimum of sharing information; she'd thought perhaps they'd been instructed to have as little personality as possible. "Th- thank you!" she whispered back. "That makes me feel better!"

She hurried back to the sitting room to find that Ginrei had gone and only Byakuya remained. He faced the open shoji doors to the garden outside, and his shoulders were... shaking?

The servant was wrong, Orihime thought in dismay, he's furious.

"Byakuya-sama?" she began hesitantly, prepared to apologize like no one had ever apologized before. "I-"

He spun around, his hand over his mouth and his eyes wide. Orhime realized, distantly, that he was laughing. Or trying desperately not to. She barely had time to acknowledge this revelation before he flash-stepped from the room, leaving her confused. And amazed. But mostly confused.

Rukia came in, frowning. "Was that Nii-sama? Where did he go? I met Rangiku-san leaving as I came in the gate. She was laughing so hard she couldn't talk. What's happening?"

Orihime looked at her, then out the doors where Byakuya had escaped, then at Rukia again. And then she just couldn't clench any more, and the laughter spilled out, and out, and out.

Rukia could only watch as Orihime laughed and laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

Within a week, they had fallen into a pattern. Rukia and Byakuya arose and breakfasted early before heading to their divisions; Orihime passed her days meditating with her Shun Shun Rikka or exploring the grounds of the Kuchiki estate or wandering to either the Tenth or Eleventh divisions to visit with Rangiku or Yachiru.

There was only so much chatting Orihime could take, however; while she loved the feeling of being part, even a tertiary part, of a family again, she'd also gotten very accustomed to living alone and having plenty of quiet time to herself. Also, the food at the Kuchiki manor, while exquisitely prepared, was also a bit bland. She worked hard at charming the servants until they allowed her into the kitchens to make herself a daily bento, which she'd bring with her for her perambulations around the estate and eat in peaceful silence while sitting by the river, or the pond, or deep in the heart of the tea garden.

There was a setting for every possible mood, she found. When she felt sluggish for clinging onto a futile and doomed love, in need of energy, she would pass her time by the river's edge, letting the rushing water invigorate her. When she felt unwilling to inflict her company on other humans but still wanted some- but not too much- interaction with other living beings, she would loiter at the pond and feed the koi. When tranquility was desired, to blot out all the general confusion in her head, she passed her time in the shade of the tea garden's lush trees and flowers.

And when she felt like flagellating herself for her stupid mistakes, she'd take herself to the rock garden. It was supposed to pare beauty down to its most basic and symbolic form, but the pale stones and boulders, with their precisely combed and raked patterns, felt bleak and sterile, empty and barren, just like Hueco Mundo when she'd made her most critical and catastrophic blunder ever.

Once the Kuchiki siblings were home from work, they would bath and change into civilian attire. Renji would typically join them for dinner. After eating, they would have a slow, rambling walk along the river or around the pond or through the gardens before returning to the house. It was late autumn in the human world, but here it was just edging into summer, and the grounds were glorious.

Renji would then take his leave, and the remaining three would ensconce themselves comfortably until bedtime- Byakuya would bury himself in clan business or reading, Rukia would enjoy manga imported from the living world, and Orihime had begun an embroidery project. It was all very comfortable and pleasant, and Orihime was enjoying feeling like part of their little family.

It was all very cathartic, and after a week of indulging herself thusly, Orihime was feeling renewed and ready to take on whatever her new existence threw at her. It was in no small part due to the Kuchiki siblings; Rukia's unflagging support and understanding, combined with late-night gab sessions involving lots of giggling, went far in lessening the ache of loss Orihime felt at being parted from Tatsuki.

And, strangely, Orihime was startled to realize she found immense solace in Byakuya's quiet company, especially during the after-dinner walks and when they returned to drink tea and enjoying their hobbies. Rukia and Renji were like a two-man comedy team together, and typically spent the evenings bantering with each other, so Orihime gravitated naturally toward the fourth member of their group. He would often perform calligraphy or occupy himself reading and writing letters; Orihime would embroider, or sometimes just stare out the opened shoji walls to the clear night sky and delicate blooms of flowers outside.

After a few days of this, one afternoon, Orihime set herself the task of planning out her new-hatched psychiatric practice. She took a notebook, pen, and bento of snacks to a shady tree at the edge of the koi pond and began to make an outline.

#1, she wrote carefully as she ate,  _figure out how to get paid_. This could be a touchy subject. The soldiers of the Gotei 13 were accustomed to receiving free health care as a part of their military service. If they had to give up part of their (not terribly lavish) salaries, the might balk and reject the idea of care entirely. #1b, she added beneath it, ask Unohana-taichou if a stipend might be possible.

She didn't care about the money so much as what she needed it for, which was #2:  _find an office to rent._  There needed to be a certain level of anonymity involved in therapy. If too many people observed Orihime visiting her patients at their homes or offices, it would soon be clear and public knowledge that therapeutic sessions were taking place.

Considering the stigma many people in Soul Society were bound to retain against the care of the mind, Orihime wanted to protect her patients from being mocked for trying to get better. An office where no one knew to look was needed. Should she not be able to secure funds, then #2b:  _ask Byakuya-sama if patient sessions can take place here._  That one seemed extremely unlikely.

#3:  _learn shunpou._  This had little to do with her practice, and everything to do with how embarrassed she was to have to ask people to haul her around Soul Society. Seireitei by itself was far too large for her navigate solely by walking, unless she wanted to spend the majority of her day as a pedestrian. She popped a grape into her mouth and underlined #3 to emphasize its urgency.

Then she put the notebook and pen aside and flopped to her back. The rays of the afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the tree overhead, dappling the ground and Orihime laying upon it. It was relaxing, almost hypnotic, and she let her eyelids drift closed.

When she opened her eyes again, it was to find herself in an undulating field of yellow daffodils, with fluffy clouds skidding across the bright blue sky above. They looked... odd. Orihime squinted at the sky and realized that it looked like it had been painted, the clouds added in broad brushstrokes of white and silver. She gazed around; in the distance, at the edge of the daffodils, tall, slender trees swayed in the breeze.

"I wasn't here a minute ago," Orihime said aloud. It was odd, but not frightening. If anything, it felt deeply peaceful, like a place she'd waited to visit all her life.

"You carry this place with you wherever you go," said a tiny voice at her left ear, and she turned quickly to find Shun'ou, one of her healing fairies, hovering beside her.

"All you have to do is be calm and concentrate, and you can come here," added Hinagiku, one of the spirits making up her defensive shield.

"You're here!" Orihime exclaimed. "Is this my inner world? Why wouldn't you come out when I called before?"

"Things are different now," said Shun'ou. "You don't need us in the outside world anymore. But it's time for you to develop your skills further. You have a zanpakutou for a reason."

"I've been wondering about that," said Orihime. "Why bother having a sword if I never have to draw it?"

"You're the only person ever to be able to bring people back from the dead, now you want to be the only shinigami ever to have zanpakutou powers without a zanpakutou," snorted Tsubaki. He grabbed a lock of Orihime's hair and yanked hard, making her squeal in pain. "How much special treatment do you want, woman?"

"I get it, okay, stop pulling, Tsubaki!" Orihime whined, trying to disengage her hair from the fairy's grasp.

"We have a lot of new things to teach you," Shun'ou told her solemnly. "We should get started right away."

"These new things... they're better than my shields and healing and Tsubaki's attack?" Orihime could barely imagine anything better than what she could already do.

"Much, much better," whispered shy Ayame, who'd flown close to Orihime's ear so she could be heard. "You'll be so amazed and happy..."

Excitement raced through Orihime at the idea. "Let's get started!"

Some time later, the approach of a familiar reiatsu roused her from her semi-conscious state, and she propped herself up on her elbows as Byakuya blurred into sight at the end of a shunpou step before her.

She'd realized over the course of the past few days that he did it on purpose- he was so fond of discomfiting people. It was funny to him. Orihime had been able to recognize his reiatsu for years so she always knew when he was approaching, but since not much seemed able to put that tiny smile on his face, Orihime made a convincing show of speechless shock, just for him.

"Byakuya-sama!" she exclaimed, hand to her heart. "You'll scare the life out of me, one day!"

"Hn," was his only reply, but there was that teensy grin.

"You had a good day, I hope?" She stood and gathered her things, offering him something from her still-half-full bento (he refused). They began to stroll up the path toward the house, where Orihime knew he would want to bathe and put on civilian clothes before dinner.

"As good as any," he replied. "And you?"

"A very good day!" she said, and pumped the air with her fist, a motion his eyes tracked with amusement. "I've been in my inner world, practicing with my fairies!"

"Fairies?" Was he finally going to have to face the full extent of her rumored lunacy? And things had been going so well.  _Alas_.

"My zanpakutou is made up of six beings... I guess they're not really fairies, but they're tiny and have wings, so that's what I call them," Orihime explained.

"Much like Kyouraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou have two beings that comprise their zanpakutous," Byakuya mused aloud.

Orihime nodded. "And since they've been part of me- my powers, that is- since before I died and got a zanpakutou, I didn't really have any other way to refer to them. We've never really known where they came from to begin with. I know that the Hougyouku manifested Sado-kun's and my wishes to be able to help Kurosaki-kun, and gave us each the powers we have, but where it got fairies from my hairpins, I will never understand."

She shook her head with a smile. He noticed she had a rather charming dimple in her left cheek.

"You have seen the manifestation of my zanpakutou during the rebellion, I believe," he said. At her nod, he continued, "I would be interested in seeing your... fairies, if you would permit it."

"I would definitely permit it!" she exclaimed, happy he was interested, "but they don't come out to the real world anymore. I can only see them in my inner world." She paused, seeming a little sad. "I miss them." Then she brightened at a thought. "But I can show you the new thing we learned today!"

Byakuya nodded, and Orihime leaned down to pick up a pebble from the path. She tossed the pebble, and cried, "S _hiten Fukumushun_! Four sacred containing shield, I reject!"

Four yellow sparks of light shot forward; most of them formed the usual three-pointed shield, but the last darted into position above them, forming a fourth point that completed the form: a pyramid. The pyramid shimmered golden, hovering in mid-air with a dark spot encapsulated within it, and Byakuya realized that the dark spot was the pebble Orihime had thrown: it had been neatly captured within the pyramid.

"I think it could be a pretty effective prison," Orihime ventured, "but all I've practiced on so far are pebbles and acorns. Maybe I can get Rukia to let me practice on her? I'd like to see what sort of resistance it could put up against someone fighting to get out."

Fascinating. Slowly, Byakuya dragged his eyes from the still-floating pyramid to face her. "I will help you," he said. Truthfully, he was dying to see how much force he had to exert before the barrier gave way. The applications in battle for this pyramid structure could not be underestimated.

Orihime's face lit up with delight. "Oh, would you? That would be such a help! Thank you!" She forgot herself enough to hug his arm to her chest, squeezing delightedly.

Byakuya did not register the soft mounds of her bust so much as the pleasant warmth of her touch. He hardly ever touched anyone anymore; sometimes, he felt like a ghost, wandering through the world with everyone either skirting around or passing straight through him, formless and immaterial. It felt shockingly good to have a tiny proof of his existence pressed against his arm.

"And maybe," she continued haltingly, seeming a little shy, "you could show me Zenbonzakura's releases, some time?"

He frowned. "Surely you've witnessed my shikai and bankai before."

"Oh, yes," Orihime said quickly, "but I was hoping I could see them from your point of view. Maybe stand right behind you, or something... it must be amazing to see all those millions of cherry blossom petals swooshing and whooshing around you in shikai... all those thousands of swords in bankai, all at your command... I always wondered..."

Her voice trailed off in embarrassment, as if she were afraid she'd gone over the edge of civility and now regretted her request.

"That would be fine," Byakuya replied, "as long as you obeyed me very precisely and stayed close." Honestly, it was very gratifying to have someone take such an interest in his zanpakutou's abilities. And his control and precision over it was flawless; if she did exactly as he said, she'd be in no danger of the flying sharded blades at all.

"Ooh, when? Can we do it now?" Orihime's eyes were shining with excitement.

But a servant was beckoning, albeit surreptitiously, from the direction of the house; that particular gesture meant 'dinner is ready, shall we hold it for you?' And it was almost twilight; his bankai was not something he wanted to unleash in the dark if there was no pressing need.

"Not today," he replied, "but soon, when we have sunlight and good time free."

"I will hold you to that!" Orihime said with a laugh. She was still clasping his arm, her hand tucked snugly in the crook of his elbow as they walked up the path to the house. It felt very companionable. "In the meanwhile, I can pick your brain about what I can do to establish a practice for myself here in Soul Society."

Ignoring the unpalatable sound of 'picking his brain', Byakuya applied that organ to the dilemma at hand. "There are obstacles, I presume?"

She nodded. "I have no money, so I have no way to rent an office where I can hold sessions with my patients." She paused delicately before continuing, "...unless I could see them here, at your house?"

"Indeed not," he replied, pleasantly. The Kuchiki estate was not a venue for psychiatric healing. The clan elders would faint in horror (though that would almost make it worthwhile). "What about seeing people at the Fourth Division? I'm surprised you have not already been approached by Unohana-taichou to serve there. There is talk of Yamamoto-soutaichou retiring in the next few decades, and her stepping into his role. If that happens, she will need replacing."

Orihime twitched in shock. "You can't mean I would replace her! If anyone would, it would be Isane-san!"

He turned a sharp eye on her. "Kotetsu-san has no bankai. Her strength of reiatsu indicates to me that it is decades, if not centuries, in coming. If ever. And she has not the temperament for command."

"And I do?" Orihime asked, incredulous. "I'm the biggest push-over on the planet. And I just got shikai when I died a few weeks ago, bankai is decades away!"

"You've had shikai since you were fifteen years old, you ridiculous girl."

"But I wasn't even dead then," she protested. "And it was hairpins, not a sword! And-"

"And you're making excuses. You are powerful and talented enough to make an acceptable captain." He was very satisfied with his argument. "I suggest you begin to pursue bankai immediately."

"Unohana-taichou taught me healing kidou years ago, but there's so much I don't know how to do," Orihime mused haltingly, clearly feeling a little overwhelmed. "Maybe I should go to the Academy. At the very least, I should have Rukia teach me shunpou."

"Shunpou is best learned from a master; Rukia is competent but I am unsurpassed," Byakuya replied negligently before honesty compelled him to add, "except perhaps for Shihouin Yoruichi. We will commence your lessons immediately."

"I don't want to add more work to your busy week," she protested, having heard Renji's tales of woe for years now. It was enough that Byakuya's insane work ethic demanded he attend to Gotei 13 business every day, but Kuchiki family matters occupied a significant amount of his attention as well. Add teaching her to all that, and the poor man would have no time to sleep or eat. "None of the other captains work every day as you do. Could you take, say, one day off per week to give me lessons?"

Byakuya had been studying the glossy sheen of the pond's surface, and the perfect reflection of the passing clouds on its glasslike surface. He frowned at her request, then slowly rotated to face her. "You want me to abandon my work for an entire day, so I can devote it to your education?"

She had to laugh at his incredulous expression. "I don't want you to devote the entire day to me. Just an hour or two of it. I want you to devote the rest of the day to yourself."

He blinked in what passed for him as an expression of stupefaction. "But what would I do all day?"

Oh, the poor dear. "You could do more calligraphy. I've seen several books of poetry around, they're yours, aren't they? You could read them. Or go for more walks. Go swimming in the river. You have your own onsen; soak in it. Get drunk. Climb a mountain. Have a picnic. Take a nap under a tree." She shrugged. "There's a hundred things you could do on a day off."

Byakuya stared at her, at a loss for words. Even worse than her cheek for suggesting such a thing in the first place was the insidious curl of temptation that rose in the pit of his stomach. Some of those things... actually sounded appealing. He thought he might enjoy swimming in the river. Or soaking in the onsen. Or, Kami save him, even mountain-climbing. And napping under a tree sounded like bliss.

"Hn," is what he said, but what he thought was, which shall I do first?

Orihime suspected that she had actually managed to convince him. "Thank you, Byakuya-sama! Renji will be so pleased."

"I didn't say Renji would also have the day off," he replied absently, lost in wondering how to spend his free time. "He'll continue to work all seven days."

Still hunched over a pile of paperwork at the Sixth Division's office, Abarai Renji sneezed.

Rukia had to stay late at the Thirteenth so Renji didn't come for the evening meal, leaving Orihime to dine alone with Byakuya. Once they had finished, they stepped out on the verandah for their post-prandial constitutional, hesitating while they decided which direction of the estate to head toward.

"I suggest the river," he said. She nodded, and let him lead the way. She didn't mind walking behind him; it gave her the opportunity to study him in peace. He had the habit of bathing and changing out of his shihakusho upon return from the Sixth, and seemed both taller and slimmer without the uniform's bulk. Tonight he wore a dark green yukata over one of pale blue, a navy obi hanging low on his narrow hips. His black hair fell halfway down his back, moving freely in the breeze. He seemed relaxed, and Orihime was relieved she wasn't annoying him too badly.

From the house, there was a path of flat stones across a manicured expanse of grass down to the river, where one could choose to cross it on a high-curving wooden bridge, or follow a paved walkway along its edge. He glanced at her, a question, and she set foot on the bridge. At its apex, she stopped and leaned on the red-painted railing to stare down into the waters rushing below. Byakuya placed his elegant white hands on the railing and stood quietly beside her.

"If I ask you a question," she said, her voice a whisper barely heard over the river, "would you answer me honestly?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment. "Honestly, or not at all," he agreed at last.

"Do you feel a burden to behave in a way other than how you actually feel?" Orihime straightened and turned to face him. The lingering glow of the dying sun gilded him lovingly; the last ray skimmed the high line of his cheekbone before gently fading into the tender blue of dusk. Yet again, she was struck by just how handsome he was, and couldn't help comparing him to Ichigo's vibrant features, and couldn't help hating herself for being unable to let Ichigo go.

"Daily," was Byakuya-sama's response. He clearly was disinclined to elaborate.

Orihime felt no such inhibition. "I feel like everyone expects me to be cheerful all the time, even when my heart is breaking." Twilight had fallen in earnest; the world was a symphony of deepening azure and cobalt, and turned his eyes from pewter to violet. "They feel uncomfortable if I show when I'm sad or angry. I feel like... like I'm not allowed to be anything but ditzy, clumsy, goofy Orihime."

Byakuya quirked a brow, glancing her way before returning his gaze to the rising moon. "I, for one, prefer when you do not behave that way."

She flashed him a quick, grateful grin that soon faded. "The truth is, that Orihime doesn't exist anymore. She died in Hueco Mundo, and she's not coming back. So I pretend. And I hate it." She gripped the railing until her knuckles whitened. "How do you manage to distance yourself from your true feelings, and maintain control?"

He was silent so long, she thought he wouldn't reply at all. "If I failed to control my emotions, I would likely reduce the world to a smoking crater," Byakuya told her at last.

Orihime's attention, diverted to the rippling surface of the river, flew to his face. It was as expressionless and calm as ever, but she looked closer, and could see a banked fire in his gaze. His reiatsu rose, just enough to prickle at the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. She felt a moment's fear as he turned to look fully at her, for a single moment hiding nothing from her, and she understood the true extent of his strength and power.

That heightened reiatsu pushed against the human world fibers of Orihime's clothing, making her even more uncomfortable in the modern-style garments. She squirmed; he pricked up an eyebrow again.

"These clothes don't feel right, now that I've died," she said, glad to change the subject. That's what I get for trying to get deep with someone like him. I am so out of my league. "They feel itchy and weird."

"Then don't wear them."

Easy for him to say. "I have nothing else."

"Hn." The moon had risen, its pallid light lovingly caressing the fine bones of his face. He peered into the distance, and pointed.

Orihime shuffled closer, as he indicated, and looked. From that vantage on the bridge, the moon's reflection shone down the exact center of the river, quicksilver coursing over its shadowed surface.

"Moments like this help," he said after a moment. "Peace, silence, beauty. They all... help."

"I'm glad," Orihime replied, and mustered a smile for him. "Because you seem so sad sometimes, Byakuya-sama, and I like you, and don't want you to be sad."

He blinked slowly at her. She was beginning to recognize that as a signal when he was just a little surprised. "I don't know if you are really as simple as you seem, or cunning enough to play at it."

Her smile faded. "I'm too tired to play at anything anymore. Dying has exhausted me. From now on, I've decided to be lazy, and just act the way I really feel. If other people can't handle it when I'm not happy and smiling, I think that has to be their problem instead of mine."

He began to walk off the bridge, leaving her to follow him once again. They were almost to the manor when he said, "I will hold you to that statement. No more pretending."

Her smile, this time, didn't have to be forced. "Yes, Byakuya-sama. No more pretending."

Upon their return from their walk, they settled in for the rest of the evening. Without Rukia to chatter with, Orihime began scribbling in her notebook instead of embroidering as usual. She was rather fascinating for Byakuya to watch because while she wrote, her face would scrunch in concentration; sometimes she would stick her tongue out. Then after that particular thought had been recorded, she would reread what she'd just written, bright eyes moving over the characters, and then she would smile. Or even laugh.

Byakuya thought that after over a decade of having Renji as his lieutenant, he'd have gotten accustomed to people so... emotive, people who had no problem not only feeling things but expressing them (in Renji's case, frequently and at peak volume- Byakuya felt deep appreciation that, if Orihime had to share her thoughts with the world, she did so in a quieter and more coherent fashion).

And yet it still startled him a little, how she let her face show her moods. More, how she spoke about them. Equanimity- evenness of outlook and expression- had been something drilled into Byakuya from childhood. Display of emotions had been discouraged in his youth, and his family had weaned him from even having emotions by the time he'd entered adulthood.

Except that they hadn't. There appeared to be something deeply flawed in Byakuya, some failure in his noble blood, because no matter how hard he tried, or how flawlessly he managed to suppress their expression, he had not yet managed to deaden the feelings that teemed within his heart. The strongest of them was usually shame, shame that he hadn't yet managed to root out all the rest, to stamp out the little wildfires of his soul so he could view the world with the implacable, deadened calm that was the hallmark of a Kuchiki.

Worse, sometimes they flared out of control and left behind a great swatch of scorched earth. It was with no small irony that he acknowledged that, when he faltered, his mistakes were enormous: Hisana, Rukia, Rukia's execution. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn't yet been deposed as head of the Kuchiki clan.

...why didn't that idea fill him with horror?

Byakuya pondered what it might be like to be just a regular Kuchiki (since he could not conceive of an existence where he was not at a Kuchiki at all). He would not be permitted to inhabit the main areas of the house, not without invitation by the family head. Instead, he'd be granted a wing of chambers in some off-central area of the estate. The clan elders would care little of how he comported himself, as long as he brought no shame upon them. No meetings to undertake, no correspondence to labor over, no excruciatingly boring ceremonies wearing the hated formal robes.

The idea was far more attractive that it ought to have been, and Byakuya banished it from his mind.

"Woo!" said Orihime, and plunked her pen down on the table to raise her arms over her head for a luxurious stretch. Byakuya's gaze followed the line of her body from flexing fingers, past slender arms exposed when her sleeves slipped toward her shoulders, to the column of her neck revealed by the untidy bun into which she'd stuffed all that hair. He felt an impulse, quickly stifled, to run a fingertip down the enticing curve from the underside of her chin, over the tender line of her throat, to the slice of creamy skin above the neck of her shirt where the barest hint of cleavage teased the eye.

She was a pretty little thing, and it was not good that he was noticing it.

Another failing of Byakuya's- or was it a sub-set of the previous failing?- was his marked preference, in matters of the flesh and the heart, for women who were in no way suitable for his rank. He had met countless aristocratic beauties during his lifetime, and not one of them had stirred him in the slightest. They were just so... composed. He himself was composed enough for two; it seemed to him that at least one member of a couple should have something resembling a pulse.

Hisana had been energetic, but it had taken until the deathbed revelation of her deserted sister for Byakuya to realize it was a nervous energy, a jangling unrest that had ultimately killed her. Her body had shaken itself to death, worn out from the agitation of guilt. He had never held that grievous error, of leaving Rukia, against Hisana; everyone made mistakes, some of them cataclysmic in their scope. It made him feel better, sometimes, to recall his own; they seemed proof against his petrifying descent toward a perfect, stone-like blankness.

A discreet scratch at the door signaled that it was time to retire to bed; the servant was waiting to clear away the tea set and take herself to her own quarters for the night. Byakuya and Orihime put away their writing materials and stood; he slid open the door and waited for her to precede him through it.

"I will take a day off soon, and teach you shunpou," he said into the companionable silence between them.

Orihime looked up at him, mouth a round O of surprise. "You will? Really? I'm so glad!" She seemed poised to inflict an embrace of thanks upon him; to his relief, she refrained, instead settling for bouncing once in glee and clasping her hands in front of her chest while she beamed up at him. Byakuya was both bemused and gratified by how easily she was made happy; he'd known jaded socialites who wouldn't see fit to nod their heads at a tribute of gems and gold, and yet the simple gift of an hour of his time had her shining up at him like a little sun. Such a strange woman.

He gave her his usual goodnight bow, about to turn away toward his own bedroom, when Orihime, apparently unable to restrain from touching him in some way, gave his wrist the briefest of squeezes in gratitude. He knew other men, able to joke and flirt, would make some sort of jocular comment like, "Be careful about touching me so easily; I might get used to it."

The problem was that he truly did have to be wary of her touching him too much; if he became too accustomed to the pleasant warmth of her skin against his, and then it happened no more... oh, how he had suffered at Hisana's loss. And oh, how he would suffer that much, and more, to have it again, then to lose it.

Byakuya stepped back, sternly telling himself that he was not retreating, thankyouverymuch. He gave Orihime one last, brisk nod, and left.


	6. Chapter 6

By the end of Orihime's second week in Soul Society, Rangiku was clamoring for her to join their group for their monthly pub crawl. On the designated night, Orihime met Rangiku at the Tenth Division captain's office, where the other woman was lounging on the sofa looking bored as Hitsugaya Toushirou finished up the last of the paperwork she hadn't done and griped at her.

"Hi, Shirou-kun!" Orihime exclaimed.

"It's Hitsugaya-taichou, dammit!" he snapped in return, even as he manfully endured the hug and kiss she lavished upon him.

"Yes, yes," she agreed with a smile. He'd grown in the last ten years and now stood at her own height of five foot, two inches or so. He had the look of an adolescent, all gangly limbs and prominent Adam's apple. Rangiku had confided that his voice broke on occasion, causing him no end of embarrassment, so he almost never spoke for fear of it happening in public. Even as awkward as he was, there was a burgeoning sense of how very handsome he'd end up being when he finally reached manhood in ten or twenty years. Orihime couldn't resist hugging him again.

This time he blushed and batted her arms away, stomping toward the door. "I don't care how drunk you get tonight, Matsumoto! I want you here at eight a.m. tomorrow morning!" Then he left in a swirl of captain's haori, size 'petite'.

The moment the door slid shut behind him, Rangiku's languid attitude vanished, and she sat up in excitement. "We're gonna have so much fun tonight! I used you as enticement, and  _everyone's_ going to come!"

That sounded daunting. "Who's 'everyone'?" Orihime asked with trepidation.

Rangiku put a finger to her chin, thinking hard. "Most of the lieutenants or, if the divisision doesn't have one, 3rd seats! At least a dozen people! I even got Kira, Nanao, and Momo!"

That  _was_ impressive; those three were notoriously hard to get to socialize. Nanao preferred to shut herself in a quiet room and relax after a stressful day of wrangling her recalcitrant captain; Kira was usually too depressed, and Momo had become much quieter after her near-death injuries at the hands of her beloved Aizen-taichou.

"It sounds interesting, at the very least," said Orihime after thinking about it a moment.

"Yeah! One way or another, I bet they'll be talking about tonight for weeks to come!" Rangiku seemed to relish the idea of potential notoriety. "But first, we gotta get you into something sexier!"

Orihime blinked, a sense of foreboding trickling along her spine. She looked down at her knee-length skirt, short-sleeved blouse, and ballet flats. "Isn't this, uh, sexy enough? I wasn't really thinking of trying to get anywhere with a man tonight."  _Or any night_ , she added to herself. She'd put her love for Ichigo behind her, but she'd only been dead for two weeks. Wasn't this a bit too fast?

"No time like the present!" Rangiku sang, and with her hand a manacle around Orihime's wrist, dragged her out of the office, down the hall, across the courtyard, and into the officers' quarters with Orihime protesting the entire way. "And no one said you had to hook up with anyone. Just... loosen up. Let your hair down.  _Flirt_. Get used to interacting with men who aren't Ichigo, because there's an excellent chance one of them- all of them, even!- will be interested in you."

She released Orihime's wrist once they were in her quarters and surveyed her with hands on hips. "And what are you gonna do if a guy is into you? Cuz right now, the answer is probably going to be 'blush, stammer, and run away'. That's been your  _modus operandi_ for the past ten years, and it's gonna change starting  _tonight_!"

Rangiku began to dig through a waist-high pile of clothing dumped on the floor. "Believe it or not, all this stuff is clean," she muttered, discarding unwanted garments over her shoulder until she found what she wanted. "Here." She shoved a few pieces at Orihime. "Go put this on. I'll get out the makeup and hair stuff."

Orihime stood there a moment, steeped in dread, before realizing the futility of protest and retreating to the bathroom to change. The bathroom was as cluttered as Rangiku's room, with bottles and jars of cosmetics and skincare items covering every surface. Orihime went to push down her skirt, her elbow hit something, and toiletries cascaded down to the floor.

"Never mind that stuff!" called Rangiku from outside. "I'll get it later!"

 _Oh boy._  Once skinned down to her underwear, Orihime regarded the clothes Rangiku had chosen for her: brief cutoff jeans and a cream-colored tunic-style knit top with full sleeves, plus a brown leather belt. It... wasn't too bad, actually. She put them on, buckled the belt low on her hips over the tunic, and left the bathroom to begin part two of the beautification ritual.

"Aha! Looks great, I knew it would!" Rangiku crowed. She herself had changed into a pair of snug boot-cut jeans and a slim-fitting cardigan in soft peony-pink cashmere, its V-neck unbuttoned even further to reveal her resplendent charms. She'd already put her golden hair into a high, loose ponytail. Altogether, she looked soft and sensually delicious. Orihime felt pity for the men accompanying them tonight; it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

Rangiku made Orihime sit in a chair before the mirror over the dresser, and got to work. She put Orihime's hair in a messy bun, fixing it in place with a few cute gold hairpins, then applied some simple cosmetics: peachy blush and lipgloss, golden eyeshadow, brown eyeliner, and followed it up lashings of mascara. She gave Orihime gold bangles for her arms and dangly earrings to put on while she duded herself up with pink on the cheeks and lips with grey and black on the eyes, then loaded herself with silver jewelry. She stepped into black suede stilettos while Orihime buckled strappy brown leather wedges on her feet just in time to answer the pounding at the door.

"Rangiku, dammit, you were supposed to meet us downstairs ten minutes ago," complained Ikkaku from the other side of the door. "Nanao says if you're not downstairs in one minute, we're leaving without-  _holy shit_."

The cussing came because Rangiku had opened the door to him by the time he'd ended his sentence, and he'd been struck dumb at his first glimpse of her.

"W-w-were we suppose to wear western clothing?" he managed after a full second of silence, tearing his eyes from the vision before him to glance down at his own outfit- not the  _shihakusho_ , but still a kosode and hamaka with sandals.

"It was whatever anyone wanted to wear," Rangiku said breezily, "so don't worry about it." She glanced behind her. "Orihime, ready?"

"Y-yes!" Orihime wasn't great at walking on heels so she stepped forward over Rangiku's mess-strewn floor with caution. "Hello, Ikkaku-kun!"

Another moment of respectful silence; then Ikkaku found his tongue and managed a wobbly smile. "Hi, Orihime-san. It's good you're joining us tonight.  _Really_ good."

She tried to control a blush and accepted the arm he held out as they descended the stairs, more from a need for stability on the platform wedges than anything else.

Outside was a sizeable cluster of people, all of whom hooted an enthusiastic greeting when they saw Orihime was there, which made her blush again.

"Worth the wait!" called a male voice from the middle of the pack. It sounded like Iba.

"Hi, Orihime-chan!" called Renji from the rear, waving. She waved back shyly and was glad he was there; she felt uncertain with so many people with whom she had only passing acquaintance.

"Was tonight supposed to be western attire?" Isane asked no one in particular, giving a longing look at their outfits. "I wish I'd known."

"Do you even  _have_ western attire?" Nanao wanted to know.

"I have plenty of western clothes you can wear!" Rangiku cried. "Just come upstairs, it'll only take a minute!"

"Noooo!" howled Iba. "Let's get going!"

"Don't be so selfish, Iba!" Rangiku whined.

Orihime gently detached herself from Ikkaku's arm and went toward the calmer members of the throng, where Momo, Kira, and Nemu stood watching with wide eyes as the louder of the bunch made their opinions known.

"Hi, Momo-san! Kira-san! Nemu-san!" she said, smiling. "I'm glad you decided to come, I don't think I'd last long with the noisy ones over there!"

"Let's us quieter ones stick together," said Momo, eyeing the others warily.

"Strength in numbers," Kira murmured with a tiny smile.

"..." said Nemu. Orihime beamed warmly at her anyway.

In the end, Rangiku's desire to swap Isane's outfit for something western was rejected, and they all began their journey.

"Where are we going?" asked Orihime.

"Once the war ended, Ikkaku and Iba compiled a list of every pub and bar in all four sections of Rukongai," Momo answered. "Then the group began visiting each one in alphabetical order, one per week."

"The only acceptable excuse for cancelling a week is if something big is happening- invasion, warfare, et cetera," Kira added. "It's been going on every week since the day Aizen was imprisoned."

"What are we up to now?" Orihime asked. What a fun idea! She was glad she was able to be a part of it.

"We are midway though the list of establishments beginning with the letter H," intoned Nemu. "Tonight's bar is located in District 54 of West Rukongai. It is named 'The Happy Cock'."

The other three pondered that for a moment; then Orihime gave a nervous giggle, which Momo mirrored after a split-second. Kira just smirked and tilted his head back to study the darkening sky. Nemu seemed confused, until-

"I suppose it is a funny name," she allowed. "But how can one tell if a cock is happy?"

She hadn't said it quietly, and the louder section of the group started paying attention to their conversation.

"There's generally one or two things that can clue you in to a cock's happiness," Ikkaku commented with a huge grin.

Shuuhei and Yumichika shook their heads and smiled while Iba and Renji guffawed. Rangiku was elbowing Nanao salaciously; Nanao, for her part, scowled and elbowed her back in retaliation. Isane looked embarrassed; her sister, Kiyone, didn't seem to get it so Isane whispered in her ear until she exclaimed, "Oh, nasty!"

Nemu tilted her head to the side. "I was under the impression that chickens are very stupid creatures, unable to feel any emotion besides fear. Are they capable of feeling contentment as well? How might a male of the species express such contentment?"

Everyone went silent, exchanging amused glances; Iba snickered. Shuuhei shook his head a second time.

"Oh," Nemu said after a moment. "You were employing a euphemism for a penis."

"There, exactly what no one needed to explain," said Nanao, looking disgusted.

Iba muttered, "Why does she even come to these things?" which earned him a glare from tender-hearted Momo, who put a protective arm around Nemu, who appeared clueless as to why she might need protecting.

"This is taking too long!" Rangiku declared, mostly because she wanted to deflect attention from Nemu's  _faux pas_ but also because she was ready to get her drink on. "Shunpou... away!"

Everyone else flash-stepped away except Orihime and Kiyone, who looked at each other in confusion.

"I don't know shunpou," Orihime confessed.

"I do, but I don't know where the bar is," said Kiyone. She put her hands on her hips and scowled. "Big stupids."

Isane and Kira flashed back at that moment. "I remembered I never told you where it was," Isane told her little sister, who opened her mouth to grump. Isane wisely chose that moment to flash-step away, and Kiyone was cut off before she could say a word.

"I thought you might not know shunpou yet," Kira said to Orihime.

"I don't! Thank you for thinking of me, Kira-san!" Orihime replied. Kira held out his arm and she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. With the familiar sliding sensation, they blurred into action.

Everyone else had gone inside by the time they arrived at The Happy Cock. The official mascot was indeed a male chicken, but every image of it was accompanied by clusters of substantially-sized mushrooms. Orihime didn't have to think hard to figure it out. She wondered if Nemu understood, or had asked more weird questions, and hoped she hadn't missed it, if so.

Two seats had been reserved for them, and Orihime sank into hers; Yumichika was on her left, and Kira sat at her right.

"Kanpai," Yumichika told her with a fetching smile, handing her a saucer and pouring sake into it.

"Kanpai!" called everyone else, and they all raised their saucers in a toast.

Sipping from her saucer, Orihime took the opportunity to study her surroundings. The Happy Cock was dingy and somewhat disreputable; she'd never have stayed if she weren't in the company of so many of the strongest soldiers in Soul Society. Still, this was District 54, and there were a total of 80 districts, each progressively worse. How much more of a dive might be found in Zaraki? She decided to ask Kira, as Yumichika was having an animated discussion with Isane over superior brands of moisturizer.

Kira, who had been quietly and steadily pouring sake straight down his throat, thought for a moment and gave a discreet burp before answering. "There are no bars in Zaraki," he said at last. "There are no businesses there at all."

"What?" Orihime had trouble understanding that. "How do people live without any... any commerce?"

"I've only been there once, on a mission to kill Hollows, but that was enough." He drained his saucer and refilled it. "Going to Zaraki district is like travelling back to the Stone Age. There's no technology, not even something as primitive as a hammer and nails. The people there are lucky to have fire. They live in huts made of tree branches, they have nothing to wear but the skins of animals they've killed for food."

Another sip of sake, and then he made his conclusion. "Commerce can't exist without some sort of societal structure, without civilization. Civilization has no place there. People complain about how savage Zaraki-taichou is... they've never been to that district. If they had, they'd know how lucky we are that the man is as refined as he is. For him to have not only survived it, but risen to be a captain... it's nothing less than extraordinary."

"Yes, yes, we all love Zaraki-taichou!" Rangiku exclaimed. Around the tables, the faces displayed differing levels of agreement with her statement. "But you're being  _gloomy_ again, Kira! Didn't I say you could only come along tonight if you weren't gloomy? Hey?"

Kira sighed and drained his saucer.

"Let's all talk with Orihime-chan! She's the reason our group's extra big and fun tonight!" Rangiku leaned across the table toward her, her bosom threatening to escape from the cardigan. On either side of her, Ikkaku and Iba appeared to be mentally willing the cashmere to give up on any hopes of containment.

Orihime looked up from her sake, horrified to be the center of attention. "Oh, no, Rangiku-chan! I don't-"

Rangiku was not to be stopped. "You've got a zanpakutou, so you gotta choose a squad! Everyone, let's go around the table and convince Orihime why she wants to join our divisions!"

Everyone seemed to like that idea except Orihime, whose opinion didn't seem to rate very highly when the opportunity to brag about one's division was on offer.

"Let's start from the beginning!" said Rangiku, the undisputed ringleader. "One and Two aren't here- thank the gods- so we're up to Three! Kira, it's your time to shine!"

Kira blinked and appeared to be dredging through the sodden fields of his mind for a reason Orihime should join his squad. "You seem to be an honest woman. We need honest people in our division. We're not very rowdy, so if you like a peaceful environment-"

"Bo-ring!" cried Rangiku. "Isane, the Fourth!"

"Since you're a healer, you'd fit right in with us, Orihime-san!" said Isane. "And you're already friends with Unohana-taichou, and me, and Hanatarou-kun. We'd be very excited to have you!"

Momo spoke up for the Fifth Division. "We like harmony, but we're not boring!" She shot a stern look at Rangiku. "We help each other a lot, and Hirako-taichou makes learning new skills fun. Since you're very new to Soul Society and haven't been to the Academy, it might be a good place for you to get the essentials down."

Renji relaxed back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "I can't say my division is huge fun, but we do everything by the book and get a lot of recognition for that. We're highly respected. And a lot of noble and rich families like their kids to be there, so they give us fancy presents and dinner parties to try and bribe Kuchiki-taichou into accepting them." He grinned widely. "Never works- Taichou can't be bought- but we've gotten some great food, a sauna, and a soccer field out of them so far, so no one's complaining."

Iba squared his shoulders when it was his turn. "My captain is very reliable and treats everyone like we're his kids. The Seventh is a big, warm family. If you joined, you'd be accepted and welcomed right away. It's really a wonderful feeling." He became aware of how the others were eyeing him in surprise, and ducked his head, finding the scarred surface of the table suddenly very fascinating.

Nanao cleared her throat. "Honestly, I have to recommend that you not join the Eighth. I'm sure you are a wonderful healer and would be a valuable addition to our squad, but I'm afraid you're just too attractive. My captain would be even more useless if someone with your looks was available to be bothered all the time." Her customary scowl deepened further. "As it is, he has wasted significant time wondering about you since he became aware of your passing from the living world."

Shuuhei smiled at Orihime; she hadn't seen him too often before her death, and never this close; he was more handsome than she'd thought, and she felt her cheeks warm in response to his attention. "The Ninth is in charge of arts and culture. We put out the  _Seireitei Communication_ magazine every month, and have several musical groups- a small orchestra and a jazz band- plus a theater group. They all put on performances every month as well. Once a quarter, we have an exhibition of artwork, and work closely with the ikebana and calligraphy clubs to exhibit their work as well. If you like the arts, the Ninth is the place for you."

Rangiku bounced in her seat, excited to talk up her division. "You should join the Tenth! Our captain is the cutest of  _all_  the captains! And in the summer, he makes it so the whole headquarters is nice and cool, as if we had air conditioning!"

"That's all you got?" Ikkaku directed a sneer at her before addressing Orihime with a shrewd eye. "I gotta say, I don't see you fitting in at the Eleventh, you're no fighter, but you get along with all the guys pretty well. Yachiru and Taichou like you, and that's not nothing. We could always use our own healer, would save time from having to schlep over to the Fourth every time someone gets hurt."

"Plus you and I would have more time to talk!" added Yumichika with a lovely smile. "You're a bit more refined than the usual thugs I have to put up with. Your presence would be a refreshing and, might I add, much-needed change." He blithely ignored Ikkaku's wounded yelp of protest.

"As you are aware, my father has been fascinated by your abilities for many years now. He would welcome the opportunity to examine and experiment upon you," intoned Nemu. "Your participation would be a substantial contribution to his body of work."

"Yeah, that'll tempt her to join the Twelfth, Nemu," muttered Renji, who then tossed back a full saucer of sake.

Kiyone beamed at her from her end of the table. "You've got to join the Thirteenth, Orihime-san!" she said. "You already know Ukitaki-taichou, isn't he  _wonderful_? You're really energetic, that's just what we're looking for!"

"So?" prodded Rangiku. "Which'll it be?" She positioned her index fingers in a cross in front of her chest, not-so-subtly making the sign for 'ten'.

"R-Rangiku-chan, I can't possibly make a decision like that on the spur of the moment like this! I have to put some thought into it! " Orihime hadn't even decided if she were joining the Gotei 13 in the first place. "I was actually thinking of opening a private practice, and seeing if I could get some patients on my own."

"Why would anyone go to you when they could see Isane-nee and Unohana-taichou for free?" Kiyone asked, and it seemed to be the question everyone else was thinking.

"My specialty in medical school was psychiatry," Orihime explained reluctantly. "It's the treatment of the mind, the healing of mental disorders, providing therapy for people with emotional troubles. I don't think the Fourth Division currently has anything like that-" She sent a questioning glance at Isane, who shook her head in the negative, "-so I think there might be a real opportunity for me to bring something to people who need it."

"So, you'd be fixing crazy people," said Iba. His expression said he was skeptical of the whole thing, and suspicious of her for being a proponent of it.

" _No_ ," Orihime said loudly, surprising herself and everyone else with her sternness, but she felt very strongly about this. "I don't like calling people 'crazy', first of all, so please don't say that, Iba-san." He had the grace to look sheepish. "It's about helping people have better lives.  _Everyone_ has some sort of trouble that keeps them from being as happy as they deserve. My job is to help them past that trouble, so there's nothing stopping them from having a wonderful life."

"I think that sounds admirable," commented Shuuhei with a faint smile. Orihime felt her cheeks heat again at his attention.

"I think it sounds like a waste of time," Ikkaku drawled. "No offense, Orihime-san. But if you're worked up about something, why not just fight it out?" He shrugged lazily. "Seems to do the trick for me."

"Not everyone hovers at the edge of violence all the time," murmured Kira into his saucer,  _just_ loud enough to be heard around the table. Ikkaku got a certain glint in his eye that spoke of retaliation, but Nanao elbowed him in the side and after a murderous glare at her he kept quiet.

Rangiku called for another round, and Nanao scolded her for being loud and getting too drunk. Ikkaku, Iba, and Renji began an argument about who had the most scars. Shuuhei watched, amused, while Isane and Kiyone bickered in a sisterly fashion. Nemu appeared to be performing a mental catalogue of everyone's comportment for some report to be completed at a later date, and Yumichika just watched them all with an indulgent smile while stroking his feathers.

A touch on the back of her shoulder caught her attention; she looked up from her perusal of her empty saucer to find Momo leaning around behind Kira to look at her.

"Don't feel bad," Momo said softly. "I think what you do is a good idea, and I know there are plenty of people who could use your help." She glanced around to be sure the others weren't paying attention, her gaze resting on Kira a moment longer than the rest. "I would love to come see you, in fact. And you could make specific offers in private to other people, I'm sure they would accept as well." Again, her eyes flicked to Kira's back.

Orihime nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Momo-san." They smiled at each other and faced back to the table.

Orihime put down her own saucer, quite sure she'd had enough for the night. What she'd already had was churning in her stomach a little; she didn't like having all eyes on her, plus having to hold up her profession to the scrutiny of everyone (and having it be mocked) made her feel uncomfortable and, if she were being honest with herself, a little insulted.

Then she scolded herself for being too sensitive; wasn't she already used to the stigma against psychiatry, psychology and being "crazy" that still existed in the living world? Soul Society was, for all intents and purposes, stuck in the feudal era. Its inhabitants were likely to be even more primitive-minded about the new-fangled study of the mind.

She sighed, feeling tired and wishing she'd stayed at the manor. A peaceful evening embroidering while Byakuya wrote letters sounded heavenly, in retrospect. There was something very calming about his presence.

She leaned back to address Momo again. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you," she whispered across Kira's slumped back, "but would you bring me to the Kuchiki estate, please? I think I'm ready to go back now."

"I'll bring you back, Orihime-san," said Kira with a hiccup. "I wanna go home too."

That drew the attention of the rest of the table's occupants.

"Orihime, already?" Rangiku shouted in dismay. "It's too soon, too soon!"

"Drunk already? Ya lightweight." Ikkaku aimed a rather endearing grin her way, impossible to be offended by.

"This is more sake than I've ever had in my life!" Orihime said with a laugh. "Maybe next time I'll be able to hold more, but for tonight- I'm at my limit!"

"Relax, Kira," said Renji, rising with a stretch of long arms over his head. "She's staying with my taichou, I'll take her home."

They made their farewells. Orihime felt the awkwardness of before had dissipated, and a sense of belonging to this boisterous group had her beaming at them all fondly until Renji steered her toward the exit with his hand at her back. By this point of the night, there were a few rough-looking customers ranged around The Happy Cock, and a few of them looked more interested in Orihime than she might have liked, but a glower from Renji had them all turning back to their drinks without a problem.

Renji hooked an arm around Orihime's waist and propelled them into a flash-step. It took about twenty minutes before they reached Seireitei, and another five from the west gate to the Kuchiki compound. Orihime closed her eyes and let the wind cool her flushed face; she felt pleasantly buzzed from the sake, and the idea of her own practice- which she hadn't really allowed herself to hope for- was starting to seem like an attainable possibility. She'd have to think about it more.

Renji brought them down not at the estate's front gate as she'd expected but inside the walls, and alit on the veranda outside the sitting room, where the shoji walls had been closed to the night air.

"Hey," he said, before Orihime could tell him goodnight, "I wanted to apologize if you felt bad, back there. Iba and Ikkaku are, uh, idiots. You've known them for years, you know that, hey?" He scratched at the back of his head, clearly feeling out of his element. "So don't be upset."

"I know," she said. "I was a little hurt, but I'm not anymore. It's not for you to apologize anyway, you didn't do anything wrong, Renji-kun!" She gave a little bow. "But thank you."

He grinned back. "For what it's worth, I think what you want to do is a good idea. Lots of bad shit went down during the war. It was a while ago, but some good people are still struggling with what happened to them, and what they had to do. It's not right."

Orihime had to smile at him; tough-as-nails thug he tried to appear, but Abarai Renji was a grade-A sweetheart at his core. "It's not right at all, Renji-kun," she said, "and I'm going to fix it."

He rumpled her hair, making her squeak in surprise. "If anyone can, it'd be you." He peered up at the moon. "Getting late. I gotta get back there to help the drunker ones get home." He heaved a sigh. "Never thought I'd see the day when I'd be one of the responsible ones." He glanced teasingly at her. "It depresses me. Maybe I should come talk to you."

"You're always welcome, Renji-kun." She waved as he flash-stepped away.

She considered going to bed, but apart from being a little chilly, she felt like enjoying the remainder of her sake buzz and sat at the edge of the veranda, feet dangling over the edge, to stare up at the moon gleaming in the sky, a pearl against dark velvet. The shoji panel slid open, and soft footsteps approached from behind.

"What did they say?" Byakuya asked. His voice was a low, smooth rumble in the night. Orihime should have gotten up to face him, should have greeted him with respect, but she was still a little drunk and a lot sleepy and she just leaned against the support beam, the wood solid against her cheek.

"They don't understand what I do, or see how it has value." She tilted her head back to peer at him, and it hit his knees; she hadn't realized he stood so close. "But they're not used to the idea, so it's okay. It takes time to accept new things."

"Hn," he said. "Ignore them."

"That's just what I planned to do, Byakuya-sama!" she agreed, and decided it was time for bed. She began to try to gain her footing, but the high-heeled shoes plus the sake was making it difficult. Byakuya plucked her off the floor and set her upright, for which she thanked him with as much dignity as she could muster.

The moon was almost new that night; its light was weak, and yet still bright enough to send a beam that managed to fall over him, silvering his hair and eyes. It could well have been the sake talking, but Orihime was struck- not for the first time- by how handsome he was.  _He even seems handsomer than before_ , she thought, and wondered if it was because she was dead now, or because she was simply getting to know him as a person instead of having him on the periphery of her awareness as merely Rukia's aloof brother.

"Go to bed now," he said, interrupting her reverie and making her realize she'd been staring up at him like a half-wit.

"That's just what I planned to do, Byakuya-sama!" she agreed again, smiling even as he stared at her impassively. She was definitely learning to read him, because she could see amusement lurking in what might appear, to most of the world, to be a flat and expressionless gaze.

Orihime managed to find her room without incident, and made short work of flinging her futon to the floor before stripping off Rangiku's loaned clothes and dropping to the mattress. Her head hit the pillow, and she smiled. Tomorrow, she was definitely going to plan out the establishment of her psychiatric practice.

But first, to sleep off the booze...


	7. Chapter 7

"Two thousand  _kan_ says this is the most he's touched a woman in years," muttered Ikkaku one morning a week later, from his position at the edge of the Sixth Division's practice yard.

"I'll see that action, and raise it another two," Shuuhei muttered back. He'd just arrived, as had Ikkaku, at Renji's summons to "come watch something funny".

"So disrespectful," Renji said, but it was clearly a token protest. There was a light in his eyes, born the moment Orihime had arrived at the Sixth for her "lesson in  _shunpou_ from Byakuya-sama!", that spoke of high hopes of amusement on his part.

So far, the lessons hadn't gone too well. For Orihime, that was. For the three men, in only the few minutes they'd gathered to watch, it had already been highly successful in bringing the laughs.

"You in or not?" demanded Ikkaku with a sideways glance.

Renji sighed. "Yeah, put me in for four."

"Betting on my brother's sex life?" The voice was a whiplash of scorn, coupled with a pistol-shot of derision. Rukia elbowed her way to the forefront of the little group. "I would expect nothing less from this pair of reprobates, but you, Renji?"

He blushed, both at being caught speculating about his captain's sex life and being scolded by a woman half his size. Then he shrugged. "Something to do."

"As if any of you fools have room to talk. When was the last time  _you_ got laid, Madarame? Hisagi?" She huffed out a breath in disgust. "Why are you lot even here? What's happening?" Rukia peered skyward. "Is that Orihime? What are she and Nii-sama doing?"

"He's teaching her  _shunpou_ ," explained Renji, glad to change the subject.

Rukia frowned as Orihime noticed her friend's presence, got distracted, and started falling. Byakuya flashed over and caught her before she'd gone ten feet. "Are you sure?"

"She's having trouble staying airborne at all. Her mind keeps wandering at how 'fun' it is to be 'flying', and then she drops like a rock. He's caught her sixteen-" Ikkaku stopped and waited while Orihime fell again, until Byakuya nabbed her mid-air "-seventeen times, now. That we've seen; they started before we got here, so it could be more."

Byakuya set her on her feet again, his hands still grasping her arms, and told her, "I'm not catching you again. If you fall, it will be to your peril."

(Ikkaku: "Peril? Who says 'peril'?"

Shuuhei: "Kuchiki-taichou, apparently.")

A shriek from above caught their attention. "I did it! I'm doing it! Rukia-chan, Renji-kun, I'm doing it!"

"Only because the alternative is  _death_ ," Byakuya told her, sounding very severe. Orihime laughed, as if he'd made an excellent joke. "Ignore them and pay attention."

But she was running, then hopping, then skipping through the air, because she  _could_. To the appreciation of the males present, she even performed a series of cartwheels that had her displaying her panties to all and sundry, which made Rukia's eyes bulge in dismay. She opened her mouth to warn the other girl, but Renji drawled, "Don't tell her to stop on our account," and then she had to hit him.

Byakuya merely crossed his arms and waited until Orihime was done exulting. "Okay," she gasped, catching her breath. "Ready now."

"This time, instead of merely coalescing the energy beneath your feet to hold you aloft, you must charge it to propel you forward. Visualize as needed. When you are ready, come to me."

Orihime frowned in concentration, then nodded decisively. Then she blurred a bit- not fast enough to disappear completely like a  _shunpou_ master would, but enough to look hazy and indistinct- and shot forward directly into Byakuya. The audience had to choke back laughter at his expression when Orihime reappeared plastered up against his body, her face mashed against his chest.

"I said 'come to me', not 'merge with my physical being'," he said, and put her firmly away from him. She just laughed again and jogged back to her original place. "Precision is important; you must be able to calculate where the step will end so you do not crash and become injured."

"Yes, Byakuya-sama," she replied dutifully, but the laughter was still in her voice. She tried again and was still too close, but after a half-dozen attempts was able to stop within a respectful foot of him instead of directly in jarring contact.

"Now we try for distance." He flicked a glance to the crew of loiterers regarding them from below. "Your fan club can provide assistance with this, I believe." He directed the group to space themselves evenly around the edges of the practice yard, in order to catch Orihime if she overshot her target, hopefully preventing her from bashing herself into a wall or rooftop.

"Ready, Byakuya-sensei!" Orihime chirped, earning a bland look from him.

"Go to Rukia."

Orihime obediently shot over to Rukia, bumping into her not too badly, and hugging her in delight.

"To Renji."

She bumped into Renji, as well. "What, no hug for me?" he teased, so she hugged him, too.

"Cease that nonsense," said Byakuya. "To Madarame."

She managed to only brush the front of Ikkaku, who received her sally with widespread arms in preparation for a hug of his own, but Byakuya commanded, "To Hisagi," and she shot away before he could collect.

She was able to stop herself an inch away from Shuuhei. "Good job," he told her, earning himself a beaming smile.

"Faster now, without stopping. To me, then Renji." Orihime flashed back to Byakuya, then his lieutenant. "Madarame. Rukia. Hisagi."

Faster and faster, Orihime whizzed between them, beginning to understand the mental mechanics of  _shunpou_. She tested different mental visualizations, realized it went faster, smoother, and used less energy if she sprang from the balls of her feet instead of the entire sole.

She got too caught up in thinking about those mechanics, however, and overshot her step to Shuuhei, instead rocketing into him with such force that they fell backwards onto the headquarters roof with Shuuhei on his back and Orihime sprawled over him.

"Hisagi-san! Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I? I have a very hard head!" She reached her hands to his face and began feeling over it for injury. "If so, I can heal it! Is there any blood?"

He sat up, his hands on her arms gently pushing her back. "I'm fine, Inoue-san." His face seemed quite pink; the pink deepened as she continued to feel down his neck to his shoulders while straddling his lap. "Really, I'm fine. Takes more than a little thing like you crashing into me."

She shot him a look of false outrage, her smile already starting to break through.

Then Byakuya, having flash-stepped to them, took her by the scruff of the neck like a kitten and plucked her neatly off Shuuhei's lap. "If you are ready to continue?"

Orihime began again, shooting around the practice yard between everyone until she could reliably stop within a foot of any of them. Byakuya, seeing her exhaustion, called a halt to the proceedings and she sank with gratitude to sit at the edge of the headquarter's veranda and catch her breath.

"An acceptable start," Byakuya declared it, once he'd flashed beside her. Orihime gave him a weary bow of thanks from where she slumped.

The others joined them; Ikkaku was griping, "Renji got hugged, Shuuhei got  _straddled_. Where's my sugar? Where is it?"

Orihime leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his bald pate; he pinkened and touched a hand to the place she'd kissed while Renji and Shuuhei hooted. Byakuya stared stonily at her until she felt compelled to at least try to control her giggles (though she failed). She felt... happy. She'd worried about making friends to replace the ones she'd left behind in the living world, but here she was, feeling like she'd found a place where she belonged.

"Byakuya-sama, if we're done with our first lesson, I am going to go back to the estate," she said, drawing his (and everyone else's) attention. "Will you be returning soon as well, for the rest of your day off?"

The others all turned to look at him, amazement evident in how slowly they swiveled their heads. "We're taking a day off?" Renji demanded, incredulous, joy beginning to dawn on his tattooed features.

" _I_  am taking a day off;  _you_  will be returning to your duties forthwith," Byakuya informed him with restrained glee as Renji's face fell. Schadenfreude was practically the only fun he had anymore.

Renji glowered; one could almost see the storm clouds gathering overhead.

"Ahaha," said Orihime, trying to defuse the tension. "I'll see everyone later, then? Thanks for helping!" She stood and fired herself in the direction of the Kuchiki estate with a wobbly flash-step that only took her to the middle of the practice yard. "Ahaha," she said again, trying once more. This time, she managed to make it to the roof of a neighboring building. "I did it!" she shouted to them, waving happily. Her smile was evident even at that distance. Rukia waved back feebly, and Orihime took her third flash-step and disappeared, hopefully not into a wall or a tree.

"A day off," Rukia marveled. "What will you do with it, Nii-sama?"

"I have not decided," he replied, "but I had thought some reading, perhaps a soak in the onsen..." He noted, at this point, Renji's dejected expression, and felt an odd sensation in his chest, at first mistaken for indigestion- had he eaten something odd for breakfast?- before he realized it was pity. "You may leave as soon as you have completed any paperwork that is due tomorrow," he told his lieutenant in an uncharacteristic display of benevolence.

Renji's face lit up as if fireworks had gone off inside his empty head. "Thanks, Kuchiki-taichou!" he exclaimed, and flash-stepped out of sight, presumably back to his office to do his usual slapdash job on the aforementioned paperwork.

"I believe the rest of you have your own divisions to plague," he murmured, eyes closed, and waited for the reiatsu of Hisagi and Madarame to dissipate with their departure.

Rukia, however, was still present when he opened them again. "Yes?" he said in response to her questioning glance.

"I'm... I'm glad you're getting along with Orihime-chan," she said quickly. "I had worried."

He lifted a brow. "You thought I would not be able to comport myself appropriately around your friend?"

Rukia blanched. "No, no! I know Nii-sama knows how to behave around anyone, no matter who!" He wondered if she would ever, in either of their lifetimes, realize when he was teasing her, and how much he enjoyed it. Resolutely, she plowed on. "I just worried that... well, Orihime-chan is a very, uh, friendly and talkative person. And I know that Nii-sama has a very limited amount of patience for people who are too noisy or overfamiliar."

"Hn," he said. What he thought was,  _Orihime is not as noisy as you think,_ and then,  _Why am I not more irritated by how overfamiliar Orihime has been?_ Because yes, she had committed both of those infractions in his presence. Yet instead of irritation, he reacted with a sort of indulgent amusement, and wondered why that was.

"It's fine," he finally told Rukia, because it was. Fine. He might actually be having fun, enduring Orihime's blithe prattlings and odd ideas. She seemed to actually  _like_ him, and it was nice to be liked. He was usually either adored, as by Rukia; deferred to, as by the clan officials and other nobility; or tolerated as a humorless stick, as by most of the Gotei 13. Until they needed his expertise at fighting, and then he was much in demand. He doubted there were many who would miss him, should his final day arrive, once he was gone.

Except Orihime. He could well imagine  _her_ missing him. He could imagine her putting a little picture of him on the shelf beside the photo of her precious Sora-nii-chan, could almost hear her chattering of her day's activities to her brother and himself. The mental image he formed of it made him feel unaccountably lonely.

"It's fine," he repeated. "Go back to your division."

She nodded uncertainly, and flash-stepped away. Byakuya was none too certain himself, especially about what to do with himself for the rest of the day.

Whatever fledgling ideas he might have entertained, they were all irrelevant because upon his return home, he was met by a servant trying unsuccessfully to keep from grinning. "Kuchiki-sama, I have been instructed by Inoue-san to request that you to change from your shihakusho and then meet her at the clearing in The Thicket."

The Thicket was a small copse of original-growth trees, miraculously left standing over the millenia of stewardship by Kuchikis, by the far bend of the river that passed through the estate grounds. Generations of Kuchiki brats had whiled away the steamy summer days under their cool, shading branches; had shimmied up their trunks and swung like monkeys out over the river (until their parents and the clan elders had wrung all the life and juice out of them, that is). Byakuya himself had passed many a youthful summer playing there; even as a young adult, he'd practiced his shunpou there because avoiding smashing headfirst into the trees was an excellent way of learning agility and how to shift on a dime while flash-stepping.

He had no idea what she was doing there, or why she wanted him to meet her. He was vaguely impressed she'd even found the place at all- she must be quite committed to rambling around and exploring his home. He doubted Rukia even knew The Thicket existed.

"Hn," was his response, and he ambled off to his room to change. It occurred to him that he could refuse to play along, could indeed simply ignore her instructions and spend the day as he wished.

...except his own half-formed plan to do some calligraphy (again) and stroll about the pond (again) now seemed deadly boring. Whatever she had in store for him, it had to be at least a little more interesting than that.

After peeling off the multiple layers of haori, kosode, shitagi, and hakama, Byakuya enjoyed the sensation of air on his skin before donning a blue and rust-brown print yukata. It was so warm, his hair had stuck to his forehead, so he fastened it back in a ponytail and immediately felt cooler. His stomach rumbled, and he hoped that whatever fresh hell Orihime had planned, it would at some point include feeding him.

A flash-step or two brought him to The Thicket. Byakuya could feel Orihime's reiatsu within. He followed it to the clearing at the center, and blinked at what he saw.

Orihime stood, in a yukata of her own (spring green, with a pnk obi), with her hands clasped tightly before her as she beamed at him. A blanket had been laid out over the ground at the base of the largest, leafiest tree, and upon it was spread a veritable feast complete with china, lacquered chopsticks, and crystal glasses.

"You wouldn't believe how many trips it took me to get all this stuff here," she announced happily. "I was worried I wouldn't have it ready by the time you arrived."

"Why didn't you have the servants bring it?" he asked distractedly, focusing on the mundane while his brain tried to figure out why she had done this- mostly he was baffled that she would think he'd ever, in a million years, want to have a picnic, but a significant part was also musing about the reason she'd go to such trouble for him. Not that he didn't enjoy being fussed over, it was just puzzling, to be fussed over by someone he barely knew.

"Oh, it's nothing," Orihime said, waving her hands a little. "I didn't want to bother them."

He turned from inspecting the repast on the blanket to give her a look. "They're  _servants_. They like nothing better than to be bothered."

She just laughed. "It's nothing," she repeated. "I really didn't mind." She approached him and took his arm, as if he didn't intimidate her at all. He supposed that after a morning spent slamming into him at significant velocity while they trained for shunpou, it was hard to be intimidated any longer. "C'mon, I bet you're hungry. I sure am. Let's eat!"

Well. He  _was_ hungry.

Byakuya allowed her to draw him over to the blanket, and seated himself on the ground at one of the place settings. Orihime began to fill his plate with a dozen different delicacies, which he recognized as resembling his favorite foods (though not looking like the fastidious caliber of the dishes he was used to having from his kitchens). Everything tasted good, however. He'd plowed halfway through his plate before he realized Orihime was watching him with a sort of fiercely pleased approval. She looked... proprietary. And anxious.

"You made everything yourself, didn't you?" he asked, after a sip of cool tea.

"Yes! How is it?"

And because Byakuya was honest, if not terribly diplomatic (to the despair of the clan elders, always), he replied, "Its appearance is not up to usual standards, but it tastes good."

Orihime's face fell for a second, but then she laughed. "I can always count on you for the truth, eh, Byakuya-sama?"

Of course she could; what a ludicrous, entirely obvious thing to say. Byakuya popped a tiny, spicy meatball into his mouth with his chopsticks and pondered what she meant.

_Oh._

He'd been rude. Fortunately, she seemed not to mind overmuch; she was eating her own meal with gusto, looking at their bucolic surroundings with apparent delight.

"Is this picnic the sole point of meeting here?" he asked once he was putting his empty plate down on the blanket. "Or do you have more festivities planned?"

She swallowed her mouthful and grinned. "I thought we could play around with our zanpakutous, like we discussed yesterday. You can try to get out of my pyramid... container... shield... thingy."

"Hn," he replied, a sound of complete lack of commitment in either direction.

"We'll see how it goes," Orihime said delicately, clearly picking up on his ambivalence. Still, she seemed optimistic. The girl was unsinkable.

They finished their meals in silence, Byakuya handing over his empty plate and silverware and holding out his glass for more tea. Orihime dutifully refilled it, then leaned back on her hands to survey the fluffy clouds skidding across the sky overhead, giving the impression of utter disinterest. When he was done with his tea, she even refrained from watching as he replaced the glass and took up a napkin to pat his lips, then placed the cloth to the side. He decided to be kind to her, since she was doing such a  _good_ impression of not harassing him.

"If you're ready?" he said, standing, and she nearly blinded him with her beaming smile. They stood and ambled away from the blanket and each other.

"I'll cast the pyramid around you, then I thought you could start with just blasting your reiatsu, then going into shikai, then into bankai," Orihime said, eyes shining and face eager. "That's if you don't destroy it immediately. Let's hope it lasts more than a few seconds!" Byakuya nodded.

Orihime glanced over to the blanket, where her zanpakutou lay by the basket of food. Then, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she said, " _Goten Keimushoshun_! Five heavens' prison shield, I reject!"

Sparks of light sprang into existence and zipped over to Byakuya, where they first formed the points of a square on the ground around him; a fifth spark positioned itself overhead and the four on the ground shot beams of light up to the fifth; once connected, they all formed a four-sided pyramid that glowed, luminescent.

Byakuya reached out and touched his fingertips to the glowing barrier surrounding him. There was no pain, just a sense of solidity. Though he could see through it, as if it were stained glass, it was as if he were touching a solid, impenetrable wall. He loosened the control he kept over his reiatsu most of the time until it was freely blazing from him like heat from a furnace, and felt the pyramid's walls shiver in response. Still, they held.

Next, he unsheathed his sword and gave the barrier a few experimental whacks, starting off gently and building up to using the full extent of his physical force and his breath was coming a bit faster. Little bursts of golden sparks flew whenever his blade made contact, but the pyramid still showed no signs of weakening.

" _Chire, Zenbonzakura_ ," he said. When his blade dissolved into its million petal-like shards, he spun them in a flurry and bashed them against the barrier. He could sense it flexing to contain his weapon, and on the other side, Orihime was frowning in concentration, but the pyramid held. Byakuya was impressed in spite of himself. He struck with shikai a half-dozen times, at full force, until he was convinced that he was well and truly unable to break it, and thus ready to move on.

He dropped his sword into the ground and said, "Bankai." The immense size of the Senkei form of his bankai, the rows of glowing swords, forced the pyramid's size to explode outward, becoming the size of a large building. Orihime eeped and danced backwards to avoid being hit by the rapidly expanding container. The walls were shivering in reaction to the battering of his reiatsu, and he suspected the pyramid would not last much longer.

" _Chire, Senbonzakura Kageyoshi_."

That did it; the reiatsu released by the bursting of the thousands of swords into trillions of tiny blades was a detonation. The pyramid's walls shattered with a sound like a thousand breaking windows. He retracted them immediately, containing his bankai back into its unreleased katana form before he could cause any harm to Orihime or the nearby landscape.

Orihime bounded up to him, her sword glowing faintly before fading. "That was amazing!" she exclaimed. "A little depressing, though, to see it fall apart so easily. I'll have to work very hard to make it strong enough to contain it."

He glanced at her while resheathing Senbonzakura. "My bankai is immensely powerful; there was never a question that the pyramid would not contain any type of attack from it. You should feel proud the pyramid not only held but expanded when I went into bankai. Or that it withstood shikai in the first place."

She paused a moment, processing his words, before saying, "Is that what is known as a backhanded compliment?"

Byakuya almost smirked. "I think the phrase you're looking for is 'damned by faint praise'."

Orihime laughed. "Well, just you wait, I'm going to practice and practice, and next time, you'll have to actually  _try_ before you break it!"

"Shall I hold my breath, then?" he murmured, and she laughed again.

"Yes, please do! If you're unconscious, I might have a chance at winning!"

"That would be your  _only_ chance at winning."

This... was fun. It was  _fun_ to be able to engage in verbal play with another person. Most people were so sensitive that they soon became offended but Orihime seemed completely bulletproof against the sarcastic little barbs he found so amusing. It was a credit to her sense of humility that she could see the humor inherent in the question of a test of skills and power between them. Byakuya himself was honest enough to admit (though only in his own mind) that he likely would not be as easygoing were he to be the recipient of said teasing. He was aware that the issue of pride was a touchy subject for him.

Back at the blanket, he refused her offer of more food, though he did accept another glass of cool tea.

"Sit, sit," Orihime urged. She dug in one of the baskets ranged around the blanket and unearthed a book, handing it to him with a flourish. "I think this is the poetry you were reading a few days ago, before all those letters arrived and you had to answer them." She plumped herself down on the other side of the blanket and fished her embroidery from the basket. "We have at least an hour before the sun shifts and this tree won't keep the sun off us anymore, so let's take advantage!" And she bent her bright head over the hoop and began to sew.

Byakuya looked down at the book; it was a slim volume of  _tanka_ , or five-line poetry. He'd been trying to get through it for over a month, but clan business lately had kept him too busy to spare much time for it. He opened it, riffling the leaves with his fingertips, letting it fall open in his hands where it might, and read the poem that revealed itself thusly.

_I loathe the twin seas_

_Of being and not being_

_And long for the mountain_

_Of bliss untouched by_

_The changing tides._

Hm, yes. Quite. Sometimes it felt like Byakuya had been striving his entire life for equanimity. All he'd ever really achieved, however, was an excellent imitation of it. He sighed and flipped a page.

_Her bracelets tinkle_

_Her anklets clink_

_She sways at her clattering loom_

_She hurries to have a new_

_Obi ready when he comes._

That reminded him of Orihime, rushing about after their lesson to prepare this picnic for him. He steadfastly ignored the implication of the woman wanting a new obi with which to look enticing for her soon-arriving lover, and read the next poem.

_On Komochi Mountain_

_From the time the young leaves sprout_

_Until they turn red_

_I think I would like to sleep with you._

_What do you think of that?_

No ignoring the suggestiveness of that. Byakuya found his eyes flicking to where Orihime sat, her head bent over her sewing, neck a graceful, pale arch. No good could come of this, he was certain, yet still he turned the page.

_Shall we stay in the_

_House to make love, when over_

_The grasses of Inami Moor_

_There glows the moon-filled night?_

An image of bodies entwined as long grass whispered around them, the moon shining bright and the sky immense overhead, flickered maddeningly through Byakuya's head. He was not a stranger to the odd erotic thought; he was a young, healthy man with all the normal urges. It was just that usually, his partner in his little fantasies resembled the slight form and dark coloring of his deceased wife, and this time, she had been of a more... robust build, and her hair was a bright, coppery brown... Byakuya hastily flipped to the next poem.

_I do not care if_

_Our lovemaking is as exposed_

_As the rainbow over_

_The Yasaka dam at Ikaho_

_If only I can suck and suck you._

Byakuya slammed the book shut and tossed it across the blanket, in the general direction of the basket in which Orihime had transported it to the picnic site. She lifted her attention from the embroidery hoop, her eyes big and startled.

"Byakuya-sama?" she inquired. "Something wrong with the book?"

"No," he said faintly, and did not elaborate. He felt a prickle of sweat along his hairline. He stood and made his way to the river, aware of her gaze following him in puzzlement. Cupped hands brought cool water to his face, splashing several times, uncaring that he was dampening his yukata. Summer was in full extension, now, and the sky was a bright, clear blue. There was a hard quality to the force of the heat beating down on them. He was very conscious of the chirping and buzzing of birds and insects as his feet sank into the moist sand of the riverbank.

"What a good idea," said Orihime, crouching beside him, her hands trailing in lazy swirls through the water before patting the moisture on her own heat-flushed face. His gaze followed the path of a rogue droplet as it traced a leisurely path down her throat into the shadowed valley of her cleavage, only barely visible above the neckline of her kimono.

 _Impossible_. The most he would permit himself with this woman was friendship. He was even amazed he would concede that much to her. Byakuya was reminded of a poem he'd long ago memorized, after Hisana had died and life seemed an endless gray stretch before him.

_Better never to have_

_Met you in my dream_

_Than to wake and reach_

_For hands that are not there._

He would never again open himself to the derision of the clan elders and members of other noble houses by fraternizing with a commoner. He would never again reveal the tender recesses of his heart, only to feel them shredded and torn when it ended. It was imperative that he put distance between them.

"I have clan business that requires my attention," he said, and before Orihime could respond, Byakuya flash-stepped back to the house.


	8. Chapter 8

Orihime was puzzled by Byakuya's abrupt departure from the riverside on that hot afternoon. Had she done something to offend him? She'd been too familiar, that was probably it. She'd only been trying to give him a nice relaxing afternoon free of work and care, in return for his many kindnesses since her death, but somewhere she'd miscalculated his tolerance of her and gone too far. Though Byakuya hadn't really changed in how he treated her- he was still his usual stoic and unemotive self whenever she saw him- it made her very sad, and she threw herself into establishing her psychiatric practice to distract herself from her regret.

By the end of her third week of the afterlife, Orihime had met several with both Kira and Hinamori for therapeutic sessions. He had severe depression and burgeoning alcoholism; she suffered post-traumatic stress disorder and had confided that she still had trouble even looking at Hitsugaya Toushirou after he'd stabbed her while under the delusion of Aizen's hypnotic sword.

Orihime had devised treatment plans for both that seemed promising, and was thrilled to be able to start working again (carefully ignoring the fact that she wasn't getting paid and nothing else was settled) but personally speaking, she was homesick for modern life, and longing for Tatsuki and the others.

"Rukia-chan," she began, one evening during dinner with the Kuchiki siblings, "how much would I have to beg Ukitaki-taichou to get him to open the Senkaimon for me?"

Rukia gave her a sympathetic smile. "You miss them a lot, hm?" She paused. "But I'm not sure we have to involve Ukitake-taichou with this." Her eyes flicked toward her brother.

Orihime noted the glance at Byakuya; she looked his way herself, brow creasing in puzzlement. "Could... Byakuya-sama perhaps put in a good word for me?" she asked slowly, guessing at what Rukia meant. Would he help her? Had she irreparably damaged whatever headway she'd made toward establishing a friendship with him?

He ignored her, meeting Rukia's gaze with his own. They appeared to have an entire conversation via telepathy, because after a few moments of staring at each other, he nodded, and the pleasure on Rukia's face told Orihime that she, at least, had some inkling of what they were discussing.

Then they returned to their respective meals.

"Um," said Orihime. They glanced up, chopsticks in mid-air. "What just happened?"

Rukia grinned. "Nii-sama will permit you to use our private Senkaimon. I'll assign a butterfly to you so you can avoid the Dangai, and teach you how to use your zanpakutou to open the Senkaimon again when you want to return."

"Oh! Great!" Orihime had no idea how that much information had been passed between them without words, but she wasn't going to quibble if it meant she got to return to the living world and see her friends again. She bowed deeply to each in gratitude. "Thank you, Rukia-chan! Thank you, Byakuya-sama!"

And so the next morning had Rukia seeing Orihime into the Senkaimon with her own personal hell butterfly, or  _jigokuchou_ , to accompany her back to Karakura Town.

"You'll exit at Urahara's shop," said Rukia. She handed over an envelope, in which was two pages of paper and a wad of money. "Here's a list of things requested by Unohana-taichou for a women's health class she'll be presenting to the Shinigami Women's Association. I was supposed to pick it all up the next time I went through, but since you're going sooner than me, would you mind?"

"No, not at all!" Orihime was very happy to run errands for her friend. She impulsively hugged Rukia. "Thanks again! I'll be back tomorrow!"

She stepped through and was surprised to find that, unlike the Dangai's dark, cavelike interior, the Senkaimon looked like a regular waiting room, each side lined with plain shoji screens. But the utter emptiness and stillness made her happy the butterfly was accompanying her so she wasn't completely alone, no matter that it was just an insect. She didn't have the best memories of travelling between worlds.

"So, butterfly-san, you're mine forever now, is that how it goes?" she muttered, more to keep her mind off the ghosts of the past than anything else. "Should I give you a name?" Silence, but Orihime hadn't really expected an answer. "Hey, why do you need an official senkaimon in Soul Society to get to the living world, but to return, you just need to use your zanpakutou like a key?" More silence. She made a mental note to ask a someone who might know, later.

After a few minutes of walking, her footsteps echoing quietly, Orihime was very glad to see the round glow up ahead that signified the exit. When the two sets of doors parted, she could see the desert landscape of the basement of Urahara Shouten on the far side. She stepped out onto the sandy floor and, thanking Byakuya for teaching her shunpou, flash-stepped over to and up the long ladder leading upstairs in mere seconds.

"Hello?" she called down the empty hallway. "Anyone here?" She poked her head out the door leading to the shop area, through which she could see the two youngsters who lived with Urahara Kisuke Ururu was sweeping while Jinta lounged on the porch, picking his nose. Both looked up at the advent of the Senkaimon doors, and blinked in surprise when Orihime stepped through.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully. "Anyone home? No one answered when I yelled out, before..."

"Huh. He's probably in his lab. I'll go get him," said Jinta, and disappeared past her into the building.

"Hi, Ururu-chan!" said Orihime once the two girls were alone.

"..." said Ururu. She wasn't much for chatting.

Orihime took the hint and sat on the edge of the porch to wait. Urahara and Tessai appeared a few moments later, to her relief.

"Inoue-san!" Urahara exclaimed, seeming delighted to see her. "I was sad to hear of your passing. But look at you! You're as lovely as always."

"Ahaha, thank you, Urahara-san," Orihime said, uncomfortable as ever with blatant compliments. "I was wondering, do you have a gigai I could borrow for the day?"

"For you? Of course! Come in, come in!" He ushered her through the store's dingy interior to the living quarters in back. "Sit, relax. Tessai-san, some tea?"

"Coming right up," rumbled Tessai.

"I'll be back with a gigai for you in just a second," he began, but Orihime interrupted apologetically.

"Do you happen to have one that won't adapt to my appearance and look like me?" she asked. "A lot of people know me in town, and would get upset to see me walking around a few weeks after I died."

Urahara's face lit up. "How clever of you to think of that! Hm! Give me a few minutes!" And he disappeared down the hallway.

Tessai arrived with the tea; he, Ururu, and Jinta joined her at the low table and they sipped in silence for a few minutes.

"Where's Yoruichi-san?" Orihime asked at one point.

"On walkabout," replied Jinta, and they fell quiet once more. There wasn't a lot to say.

"Here we go, Inoue-san!" Urahara exclaimed as he returned, a gigai hanging limply under his arm. "I had to give it something to go on, so when you step into it, you'll look like me. If I were a woman." He grinned as the others stared at him in something akin to horror. "I can't wait to see how I look."

Orihime suppressed a sigh and stood up, walking toward where he was holding the gigai out and shaking it in enticement. She had nothing to complain about; she should have been more specific. With Urahara Kisuke, there was no end to the possibilities of weirdness.

"Just push yourself into it like it's a big animal suit," he advised. "Step into the legs like they're trousers, yes, like that. Now pull it up to your waist... slide your arms in... now your head."

Orihime felt like she was wearing a full-body wet suit; the gigai was very clingy and constraining and she now knew why Rukia and Renji were always complaining about what they were like. She already couldn't wait to get out of it. "Where's a mirror?" she asked, and Ururu led her to a bathroom.

"Ah! Wow! I'm a pretty sexy woman! Disappointed about the tiny boobs, but I have an  _amazing_ ass! And look at those legs, Tessai! I am a  _fox_!"

The mirror showed Orihime a young woman of slender build ("Oy, you made her tits disappear! Are you stupid?" - Jinta) with ash-blonde hair falling to her shoulders in a choppy bob. Big grey eyes and a pretty face completed the picture. She was disconcertingly Caucasian, and that would take some getting used to, but otherwise, she had no real complaints beside what she was wearing- Urahara had her in some low-cut, miniskirted hoochie outfit better suited for a hostess at a men's club than walking around in broad daylight. First order of business: get some regular clothes.

"If anyone asks, you can tell them you're my little sister," Urahara told her, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Urahara Kimiko, tell 'em that!"

Orihime would not tell anyone anything of the sort, and barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes. "Is there anything else I can wear? This is..."

"Horrible," intoned Ururu, speaking for the first time. "Follow me."

Ururu led Orihime to her bedroom and dug some garments out of the drawers. The skirt, meant to be shin-length on Ururu, came above the knee on Orihime, and the blouse would never have fit her actual body with its abundant charms, but on this new, flatter chest it fit perfectly. None of Ururu's shoes were big enough, however, so Orihime was stuck with the hooker stilettos until she could arrange for something else.

They emerged to the main room again and Orihime bowed to Urahara. "Thank you, Urahara-san," she said politely. "I will return it tomorrow, if that's okay?"

"Or the next day, whenever," he replied, waving a negligent hand. "Just have fun with it!"

She did not want to know what he had in mind, and just nodded. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Oh, wait! I almost forgot." He handed her a small, shiny keychain, at the end of which dangled an enamelled, flaming skull: the very same image as that imprinted on Ichigo's substitute shinigami badge. "In case you have to get out of the gigai in a hurry."

"Ah, thanks!" Orihime slipped it into her pocket and hurried out. It was almost five o'clock; her friends would all be getting out of work within the next hour or two. She wondered if they could get together for dinner, perhaps? It would be so nice to see everyone again, and make sure they knew she wasn't gone forever. Not for the first time, she felt a deep gratitude toward Rukia for making it possible for her to keep her friends, even when she hadn't been sure she wanted to.

Orihime hadn't gotten more than one block down the street before she became aware that the hooker shoes (hot-pink sequined platform affairs with towering, clear acrylic heels) were rubbing blisters on her toes. Better than going barefoot, though, she told herself.

She hadn't made it another block before she felt Ichigo's oppressive reiatsu barrelling toward her. He skidded around a corner, eyes darting everywhere at once, clearly searching for the friend whose reiatsu he recognized. His gaze slid past her, stopped, then returned. He stared at her in speculation for a moment, lingering on the shoes, before continuing to scope out the people on the street in search of 'Orihime'. When he couldn't find the usual buxom girl with chestnut hair, he scowled in confusion.

"Kurosaki-kun," she called to him. His attention whipped back to her, and his stare was like a laser piercing through her. He jogged over and inspected her from head to toe (especially toe) before saying, cautiously, "Inoue?"

"I'm in a gigai," she whispered, glancing around first to make sure no one else was close enough to hear the oddness of their conversation. "Urahara-san made it look like if he were a woman."

Ichigo's scowl deepened. "That pervert," he grumbled. Orihime was inclined to agree.

Another reiatsu was heading their way; they both peered around at the same time as they recognized Ishida Uryuu approaching.

"Let's see how long it takes him to get it," Ichigo said with a little grin.

Orihime had to shake her head; the competition between the two was still going strong, even after a decade. "He's smarter than the two of us put together," she said. "He'll know right away."

Uryuu walked around the corner by where Orihime had come from Urahara's; he saw Ichigo and an unknown woman and without a moment's pause smiled.

"See?" she said, smiling back and waving as he approached them. Ichigo made a cranky huff and frowned at the newcomer.

"I had wondered if your gigai would look like you or someone else," said Uryuu by way of greeting once he reached them. "I'm glad you realized you couldn't keep looking like yourself, but a blonde Yankee?"

Orihime explained about Urahara's little tweak to the gigai. Uryuu too was of the opinion that the shopkeeper was a deviant. "It explains the shoes," he commented.

"You should have seen the outfit I was wearing before," she replied with a laugh, and plucked at her t-shirt and skirt. "I had to borrow these from Ururu-chan, but there were no other shoes... my feet are killing me."

Ichigo immediately turned and crouched, offering her his back. "I have to get back soon," he said, "but hop on. I'll take you to Tatsuki's. That's where you're headed, right?"

Orihime shot him a worried glance, feeling the old nervousness rear its unwelcome head.  _Oh, stop it,_ she told herself severely.  _You swore him off years ago._  "Uh, if you're sure..." she said hesitantly.

"C'mon," he said, and she carefully climbed onto his back, looping her arms around his neck. He grabbed her legs behind the knees and stood to his full height once he was sure she was secure.

"I have to get back, too," said Uryuu. His position as a highly-acclaimed young architect was something he was very proud of, and she knew he didn't want to jeopardize it. She was touched he'd left his office, probably at a dead run, when he'd noticed her reiatsu had appeared in Karakura Town.

Orihime reach out and squeezed his hand. "Let's all get together tonight for dinner?"

He nodded and flashed her a quick smile. "I'll call when I get out of work."

They parted ways, heading in different directions. Orihime could think of nothing to say to Ichigo and was rather shocked to realized she didn't feel too compelled to force conversation, not like how it used to be, back before she'd given up on him. It occurred to her that this might be the first time she was actually comfortable in his presence. The fact that it was while she was riding on his back, arms and legs wrapped around him, almost had her laughing at just how absurd she was.

"How're things in Soul Society?" he asked after walking a few blocks.

"Pretty good," Orihime replied, propping her chin on his shoulder. "Byakuya-sama has been kind enough to let me stay on the Kuchiki estate until things are settled."

He glanced over at her. "What needs to be settled?"

"I have a zanpakutou," she explained, "so I'm going to be a shinigami. I just don't know how it's going to happen. Will I go to the academy? Which division will I join? What about my dream of opening a psychiatric practice, do I try to still do that or let it go and aim for something else?" She heaved a gusty sigh. "There's a lot to be decided, which is a little annoying, because I thought I'd finally figured out what I was doing with myself, and then this."

"Yeah." Ichigo wasn't one for platitudes. "Whatever you decide, I know it'll work out for you."

Orihime was touched, and have his neck a little squeeze. "Thanks, Kurosaki-kun."

He wheezed. "Loosen up, Inoue! You're strangling me!"

She was not; he was just buffooning around. Orihime laughed and released her grip. "You going to come to dinner with us tonight?"

"If I can."

Tatsuki's dojo was just up ahead; Orihime could feel her friend's faint reiatsu within. At the door, she tried to get Ichigo to put her down but he refused.

"If you don't have a dozen blisters by now, you'll break an ankle," he said, and insisted on carrying her all the way up to Tatsuki's office. They were only halfway up the stairs when the door above was flung open and Tatsuki herself ran out.

"Ichigo! Orihi... me...?" She trailed off when the woman she saw before her was not her familiar busty friend but a blonde stranger. She frowned and looked to Ichigo. "It feels like her, but..."

"It's me, Tatsuki-chan!" said Orihime, and thumped Ichigo lightly on the shoulder so he'd let her down. Once back on her own two tackily-shod feet, she bounded to Tatsuki and enveloped her in a bear hug. "I'm in a gigai. I can't look like myself because people who know I died would freak out. Hi! I've missed you!"

Tatsuki hugged her back with ferocious strength. "I missed you too. Why was Ichigo carrying you? And what the hell are on your feet?"

Ichigo barked a laugh. "I gotta go. See you tonight, if I can. I'll call." He nodded to Tatsuki, and loped away down the stairs.

Tatsuki stepped back and ran a discerning eye over Orihime's gigai and what it was wearing. "Weird to see you titless," she said bluntly.

"I know, right?" Orihime gazed down at herself. "I can actually see my own feet." She paused. "Wish I couldn't."

"Yeah, those shoes are the pits. Were you expecting to pick up some extra money on a street corner?"

"Until I get a job, I gotta bring in the cash somehow," Orihime joked back, and they cackled. "But seriously. I can live with these clothes, but the shoes have to go. Do you have anything I can wear? And when do you get out of here? Can you leave early?" She pulled the envelope with Rukia's list from the skirt pocket. "I have to run a few errands for Rukia-chan, pick up some things for Rangiku-chan and the Women's Association. You should come with me."

"Sure, sure." Tatsuki darted back into her office and came out with a pair of plain brown flats, which Orihime gratefully stepped into after removing the hated pink stilettos. Then Tatsuki led the way down the stairs and into one of the practice rooms, where she had a few words with the class instructor.

"I'm free, let's go!" she said, and they left the dojo, aiming for the downtown shopping center. They walked in silence for a while, Tatsuki striding easily with her hands jammed in her pockets.

"How've you been, Tatsuki-chan?" Orihime ventured after a minute. "I've missed you so much."

"I missed you, too," Tatsuki replied quietly. "Seeing you again... helps. If I couldn't ever see you again... that would kill me." She squinted and stared pointedly away from her friend, and Orihime knew she was trying to conceal tears.

"I'll come visit as much as I can," she promised. "The Kuchikis have their own private Senkaimon, and I have my own butterfly now! And I think I can convince Byakuya-sama to let me use it pretty often, so I will be back all the time. Just wait, you'll be sick of me in a few months!"

Tatsuki looked a little lost. "...I don't know what a Senkaimon is, or what butterflies have to do with anything. But if it means you can come back, I'm all for it." Her cell phone rang then. As she answered it, Orihime removed the first page of the shopping list from the envelope and studied it.

Tatsuki snapped the phone closed. "Ichigo called Mizuiro, who called Chizuru. Ishida called Sado. They all want to meet at that okonomiyaki place in the Komatsu part of town after seven."

Orihime didn't look up from the list. "We should be able to get Rangiku-chan's cosmetics before then, and we can finish up with the stuff Unohana-taichou wants after we eat. Rangiku-chan wants some CDs, too, so maybe the boys will want to come along for that." She refolded the list and replaced it in her pocket, then clasped her hands behind her back and gazed up at the darkening sky. "Feels weird to be back," she said. "The air smells funny, and the cars seem so  _fast_."

"Because you're living in the Edo period in Soul Society," Tatsuki replied. "I'd love to see what that's like, sometimes, but then I remember that to see it I'll have to die, and I'm not quite ready for that yet."

"Who is?" asked Orihime, feeling a pang of sadness. She certainly hadn't been ready. Still wasn't, not that she had any choice in the matter. "But it's really not bad at all. Much cleaner. I'll get more used to it soon, I'm sure." She sighed. "How much do I sound like I'm trying to convince myself?"

"A lot," said Tatsuki with a laugh, and bumped her shoulder into Orihime's. "Don't get mopey. There's the drug store. Let's go load up. Rangiku-chan; she's the busty blonde, right? She's gorgeous, what does she need so much makeup for?"

"When I asked her that, she said the reason she was so gorgeous was  _because_ of all the makeup, and I should be glad I've never had to see her first thing in the morning after a three-day bender."

They went in and hurried to get everything on Rangiku's list in time for meeting the others at the restaurant. The bag, when they exited, was full to the brim and very heavy; Orihime let Tatsuki carry it and as soon as they spotted distinctive orange hair among the people milling along the street, Tatsuki targeted Ichigo and foisted the sack on him. He, in turn, gave it to Sado as soon as he arrived.

They bustled inside the restaurant; Mizuiro, Chizuru, and Uryuu were already at a table with their ingredients. Uryuu was whisking his together with brisk efficiency; he'd already seen the 'new' Orihime but the the others were confused until explanations were made.

"Are you sure she's our Hime-chan?" Chizuru asked doubtfully, poking a finger into Orihime's B-cup breast with a displeased frown.

"This is a good look, too," Mizuiro said diplomatically. He had no problems with Orihime's new appearance; he had always been partial to blondes.

Everyone jammed around the table, and the cooking began. It was messy, and crowded, and noisy, and huge fun.

"Kurosaki, yours looks like it was just flushed down a toilet," said Uryuu, expertly flipping his okonomiyaki over. "I don't know how you can eat it." Ichigo just jammed in another bite and grinned around his mouthful.

"Too much mayonnaise, Sado-kun, too much!" Chizuru protested as he squirted a complicated pattern on top of her okonomiyaki. "I'll barf!"

Afterwards, everyone decided they wanted to go to the music store with Orihime and Tatsuki. "What else is on that list?" asked Chizuru as they walked, snatching it from Orihime's hand and scanning the first, then the second, page. Her eyes widened almost comically, and she hooted with delight.

"I know the best store for this stuff," she informed them seriously, with a hard gleam in her eye. "You just leave eeeeeeeverything to me."

Anything that Chizuru was an expert on would give any sane person reason for suspicion. Being very sane, Tatsuki snatched the list back and as her eyes flew down the words, they grew wider and more horrified. "Orihime," she whispered, "tell me you haven't read page two."

"I haven't read page two," Orihime said obediently, mostly because she hadn't. "What's on it? I thought it would be medical supplies or something, since it's for Unohana-taichou."

Tatsuki looked up from the list, her face bleak. "No," she said. "It's not." And she handed it over.

Orihime had to read it twice, because she couldn't believe her eyes after the first pass. "Oh," she said once she'd processed and accepted that it really said what she thought. "Oh, my."

Ichigo plucked the paper from her limp fingers. He began to blush from the first item, and only grew more and more purple as the list went on.

Uryuu had lost the last of his patience. He took the list and scanned it quickly. To his credit, his only reaction was to blink rapidly several times before saying, "Somehow, Chizuru-san, I am unsurprised that you know exactly how to obtain these items."

Mizuiro took the list from Uryuu, read it, and burst out laughing. "I don't know about you guys," he said to the other men, "but I'm going with them. I wouldn't miss this for  _anything_."

**The List**

5 dildoes (min. 6 inches long, various colors)

4 vibrators (prefer dual-headed, 'rabbit' type)

3 butt plugs (1 medium, 2 small)

3 stainless-steel cock rings (adjustable)

2 sets nipple clamps

1 spreader bar

1 suspension sling

3 set fake-fur-lined handcuffs (prefer leopard, will take tiger)

2 strap-on harnesses

9 bottles lubricant (not silicon)

1 pair shoulder-length fisting gloves (rubber, not latex)


	9. Chapter 9

"I don't think I've ever been so embarrassed in my entire life," complained Tatsuki as they walked toward her (formerly Orihime's) apartment. ("I've spent so much time in this dump, it already feels like home," was her explanation, along with a few strategic punches when accused of being overly sentimental).

"Me, either," agreed Orihime, trying to juggle the bags in her arms so they didn't ache so much at the weight of what she was carrying. Not for the first time, she was jealous of Tatsuki's superior strength. "Is my face still purple?"

Tatsuki glanced over at her friend's countenance. "It's only red now. In an hour, it'll be down to pink."

"I thought Kurosaki-kun was going to have an aneurism," Orihime said with a giggle. She would treasure his expression of horrified shock for the rest of her life.

"Uryuu took it all surprisingly in stride," Tatsuki commented. "Still waters run deep with that one."

"Oh, don't say things to make him sound all ominous and weird." Orihime nudged her shoulder into her friend's arm. "He just has better control over his exterior than most people. Like Byakuya-sama; he has reactions just like everyone else, he just hides them better."

"Whatever, whatever. I still think Uryuu's a closet perv," Tatsuki said with a yawn. "At least he keeps it hidden; Chizuru is so out-there I don't know whether to be grossed out or just exhausted by it."

"I'm a little of both." But there was a feeling prickling the edges of Orihime's psyche, and it was not nausea; it was that uneasy awareness of an approaching Hollow. "Oh, poop."

"Poop? Where?" The other girl looked around, wanting to make sure she didn't step in any, until she heard the telltale roar in the distance. "Oh."

Orihime was already looking around for somewhere to stash her bags and gigai; she fished the keychain out of her pocket and pressed it to her forehead. The gigai dropped to the ground like a rock, leaving Orihime standing there in her own body, wearing the shorts and t-shirt she'd had on when she'd left Soul Society. Thrust through her waistband was her zanpakuto, and she fingered the hilt for reassurance before turning to Tatsuki with a smile.

"Take care of our things while I kill it, okay, Tatsuki-chan? I think it's a weak one, it won't take long."

"Orihime-" began Tatsuki, who wanted to wait until the inevitable arrival of Ichigo or Uryuu, but Orihime was already gone, using her newfound shunpou ability to rocket skyward until she was level with the Hollow's head as it rounded the corner of a building, aimed right for them.

"Grawrrrrgh!" it bellowed, reaching out an immense, clawed hand to seize her petite body. Orihime flung out a hand, and her triangular shield exploded into existence right into the Hollow's path while Orihime flash-stepped clear of its grasp. A second later, it crashed into the shield, too slow to avoid it.

"Graughuuuh?" It shook its head, trying to clear away the fog from the collision, and turned-

-only to get split in half right down the middle, from head to crotch, as Orihime flung out her other hand and Tsubaki shot forward to do his thing.

"Graoooouuugh," it said, sounding mournful, as it dissolved into the clear night air.

The golden points of light that were Orihime's fairies zipped back to her zanpakutou, merging with it as she flash-stepped to her friend's side. "All done!" she said cheerfully.

"So weird to watch you do that," Tatsuki said, shaking her head in amazement. "You're like a superhero, now... zipping around in mid-air, killing Hollows like a boss... you don't even need a sword like Ichigo and the rest."

"It's no big deal!" protested Orihime. "Really! It's just that you're not used to it yet. I promise, one day you'll find it completely normal and hum-drum and think nothing of it."

"I doubt I'll ever get used to watching people walk on air and sword-fight monsters," snarked Tatsuki.

Orihime just grinned. "You should call Kurosaki-kun and Uryuu-kun so they don't waste their time coming."

Tatsuki huffed and handed over her phone. "You do it," she said, and set about gathering up their shopping bags.

"...had no trouble at all!" Orihime was saying into the phone as the other girl waddled over to her under the load of bags. "I just flash-stepped up into the sky- yes, Byakuya-sama taught me how! I'm getting pretty good! I haven't hit anything in  _days_!- and  _swhoosh_ , I killed it! So we're fine here."

She grabbed the gigai with her free arm and started climbing into it again. "You'll text Uryuu-kun? Thanks, Kurosaki-kun! Sleep well!" After hanging up, she popped the phone into Tatsuki's jacket pocket and tugged the gigai up over her arms, then poked her head in, and suddenly the gigai  _was_ Orihime.

"Speaking of things it's hard to get used to," she said with a little shiver, then took some of the bags from her friend.

"You and me both," muttered Tatsuki. "It's just creepy."

Once they had arrived at the apartment, they dumped the bags in a corner (and covered them with a blanket, because Tatsuki didn't want to even accidentally clap eyes on any of the sex toys). Orihime shed her gigai once more, tucking it under the blanket with the sex toys, and collapsed on the ratty old couch next to her friend.

"So, seriously, what's been going on since you went to Soul Society?" Tatsuki asked. "You seem... different."

"Different?" squeaked Orihime. Her eyes darted from side to side as she tried to think of any ways she wasn't the same as before. " _How_ different?"

"I don't know. You just seem... more relaxed. More confident. More adult, even.  _That's_ it; it feels like you've grown up a little more."

"Are you saying I was immature before, Tatsuki-chan?" Orihime asked sadly.

"No, no, not immature, just... you seem calmer, less girlish and more... womanly, I guess." Tatsuki shrugged and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the couch. "I don't know how to explain it. You know this sort of thing isn't my strong point."

"I suppose dying could do it," she continued. "Dying would make anyone feel less girlish, huh? But today you were way less spastic around Ichigo than before, and that's a good thing." She cracked open an eye and rolled her head toward Orihime. "It feels like you really have moved on from him."

Orihime tucked her knees up and rested her chin on them. "I think I have, too," she agreed thoughtfully. "I keep so busy, nowadays, that there's almost no time to moon over something that will never happen. But I feel more relaxed, too, because though I'm busy, it's not a  _stressful_ busy- does that make sense? I spend my days either meditating or holding sessions with a few people who've started coming to me for therapy. At night, I have dinner with Rukia-chan and Byakuya-sama and Renji-kun, then we walk around the estate grounds, then just spend a quiet hour or two talking or doing whatever, then go to sleep.

"Before, I was always rushing everywhere, there were deadlines, deadlines, deadlines, and so many exams, I was always feeling insecure about what I knew about being a doctor. And with Kurosaki-kun being so out of it about me, and how I feel-  _felt_ \- about him, I felt insecure about myself as a girl. Woman. What _ever_  I am. But the way some of the men in Soul Society act..." She began blushing as her words trailed away.

Tatsuki sat upright like a shot. "How are they acting?" she demanded, a delighted glint in her eyes. "Are they fawning over you like slavering beasts? Cuz they damned well  _should_ be, Orihime. It's about time you're noticing and enjoying it. It's one of the things that's actually fun about being a woman."

"Not so much with the slavering, but there has been a little fawning," Orihime admitted, her blush still going strong. "And it's not all a flirty type of thing... I'm feeling more confident about myself as a person in general. Byakuya-sama says that not only does he believe I can achieve bankai- that only happens to one person in a thousand, no, in  _ten_ thousand, Tatsuki-chan!- but that I could even be made captain of Fourth Division some day!"

"That  _is_ nice," Tatsuki agreed slowly, as if she were coming to a realization about something.

"And Renji-kun said such a nice thing to me the other night, that if anyone could fix people up and help them be happier, it would be me..." Orihime was up on her knees now, excitement shining in her eyes as she bounced on the limp old sofa cushion. "And when we tested my newest technique, Byakuya-sama praised me for being able to withstand his shikai and a few seconds of his bankai! And he's  _very_ strong, Tatsuki-chan, so that's a huge compliment!"

She thought Tatsuki would be excited, too, but her friend was just sitting there, eyeing her with what appeared to be growing suspicion.

"...so, uh, yeah, I'm feeling better about myself lately, too," she finished in a small voice, not sounding like she felt better about herself in the slightest. "Tatsuki-chan?"

"You're mentioning this Byakuya a lot, Orihime," Tatsuki stated flatly. "Like, a  _lot_. So spill it- what's going on with him?"

"What are you talking about, Tatsuki-chan?" Orihime asked in amazement. She could feel her face heating as her blush renewed. "I don't... for Byakuya-sama... why would you even  _say_ such a thing?"

Tatsuki sliced her a mischievous, knowing grin. "I think you're protesting too much."

"No, I'm protesting exactly as much as I should be!" She put her hands to her hot cheeks. "Byakuya-sama is funny and smart and talented and good-looking, Tatsuki-chan, but we're just... hm.  _Are_ we friends?" She pursed her mouth in thought. "He's so remote and touchy, I don't even know  _what_ we are. We might be friends, but with him, it's almost impossible to know. You know?"

"I know that you're talking a lot about how he can't possibly like  _you_ , but I'm not hearing anything about how  _you_ feel about  _him_. Which tells me everything I need to know." She sat back into her corner of the sofa, an unbearably smug smirk on her face. "You like him."

"Of course I  _like_ him, Tatsuki-chan!" Orihime said, exasperated. "He's Rukia-chan's brother, and I've known him for a decade, and he's been very kind in letting me stay at his home for this past month, and as I get to know him, I realize he's good company. But-"

"No," interrupted Tatsuki, "you  _like_ him, like him. I can tell. It's just like how you were at the beginning, when you started liking Ichigo." She sat forward, her eyes intent on Orihime's. "And from what I've heard from you and him, it sounds like Kuchiki Byakuya is not the type of guy to reciprocate the feelings of a soft-hearted young thing like you."

"He's not," Orihime agreed instantly. "Which is  _fine_ , because I do not  _'like_ him, like him'. We're 25 years old, Tatsuki-chan, why are we still talking this way?" She crossed her arms over her bosom and gave a little huff. "And am I so stupid that I have to be warned off from an unsuitable man?"

Tatsuki grimaced. "I didn't mean it like that, Orihime, so I'm sorry if it hurt your feelings. I'm just... I worry about you. I don't think you realize how hard it was for us to watch you languish after that blockhead for so damned many years."

"Us? Who's 'us'?" demanded Orihime.

"Me, Uryuu, Sado, even Mizuiro and Chizuru. Maybe especially Chizuro... she's always been praying you'll come to your senses and embrace the love of Sappho. But anyway... it was sad before you were abducted, and after you came back, it was downright agonizing. And however much it hurt us, I know it hurt you even more. So can you blame me for wanting to spare you that again?"

How was she supposed to stay angry after such a heartfelt explanation? Orihime abruptly felt all the indignation just seep out of her, like she was deflating.

"I know," she said miserably, and slumped against the old tweed sofa cushion. "You're not wrong, Tatsuki-chan."

She averted her gaze to stare blindly out the window. Tatsuki was one of the few who was aware of just how much Orihime had suffered during her abduction; it had been on her shoulders that Orihime had sobbed out the details of how Menoly and Loly had tortured her, how Nnoitra had raped her body, how Aizen had raped her mind.

"I'm not falling for Byakuya-sama," she said at last. "You know me, I can't resist becoming friends with everyone. And if there were ever anyone on the planet who needed a friend, it's him. He's got to be the loneliest person I ever met."

Tatsuki huffed. "Just don't let your pity lead you into something weird with him."

Orihime had to laugh. " _Weird?_  Tatsuki-chan, I kill monsters by shooting fairies out of my hands. Half my friends are dead. Heck,  _I'm_  dead. Being friends with Byakuya-sama is probably the most normal thing about me."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," grumbled Tatsuki. "I still think you're protesting too much. But I'll let it go for now."

"Generous of you," said Orihime, grumbling as well. "Why did I come visit you, again?"

"Because you love me more than anyone else," replied Tatsuki promptly, without doubt or arrogance. It was true, after all.

"Not anymore, according to you," Orihime shot back.

"Kuchiki Byakuya could never take my place!" Tatsuki protested. "We have history together! Many long years of close bonding!"

"You've never actually met him, have you?" Orihime asked, an amused smile curving her lips.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, nothing... I'll just wait until you've seen him in person, and then we'll see if you still think there's no way you could never be replaced."

And with that, Orihime went to make tea in the kitchen, laughing at the expression of outrage on Tatsuki's face.

* * *

It was evening the next day in Soul Society when Orihime returned, and her arms were getting seriously tired by the time she made it to the far end of the Senkaimon and stepped out onto the Kuchiki estate's manicured garden lawn. She set the heaping bags down at her feet and swung her aching arms in circles, trying to get the blood flowing properly again.

Renji poked his scarlet head out of a nearby room. "Ah, I thought I felt your reiatsu!" he exclaimed. Spying all the bags she had set down, he loped over to help with them as Byakuya made an appearance at the door, watching impassively.

"Ah, Renji-kun, no, that's not necessary-" Orihime said, beginning to panic when Renji grabbed one of the bags of sex toys. She reached for the bag but he kept moving it so she couldn't get a handhold, mouth curved in a feral grin.

"Hehehe, what's in here you wouldn't want me to see?" He flash-stepped a few feet away to keep Orihime from the bag and glanced down, his grin fading when he realized its contents and why, exactly, her face might be flaming. "Orihime-chan," he said, his tone well and truly shocked, "this is full of dildoes!"

He reached in and pulled out an enormous rubber dong in an eye-searing shade of purple latex, waving it at her in emphasis.

"Most of them are vibrators, actually," Orihime said miserably, attempting without success to grab the purple dildo from Renji. "One of the other bags is half-full of batteries for them."

Renji had recovered from his surprise at that point, and was waggling the purple dildo at Orihime as if he were threatening her with a sword, his other hand on his hip. "Gotta say, Orihime-chan, I never had you pegged for a girl who was into this sort of stuff."

"Renji-kun!" she shrieked, and snatched at the dildo, only to have him hold it over his head so she couldn't reach. "Give it back!"

"If you were so desperate for a little loving, I know tons of guys who'd be more than happy to- oof! Dammit, Rukia!"

Rukia had appeared from within the house and, in a single smooth motion, removed the dildo from Renji's hand, stuffed it back into the bag, and elbowed Renji smartly in the belly. "They're not for her, idiot. I asked her to buy them," she growled at him. "Sorry, Orihime-chan. I only found out what was on the list after you'd gone."

"It's fine, Rukia-chan," Orihime replied, very glad to be able to relinquish ownership of the bags and their upsetting contents. "It was so weird, going to that store and getting so many things. Everyone thought I was the sickest pervert alive! And I don't even know what half those things  _do_!"

A choked sound came from the verandah, and she, Rukia, and Renji all looked over to find Byakuya gazing with great interest off into the distance. Though his face was blank as always, his eyes were gleaming and Orihime realized he was was very, very amused.

"I am not sure which is more disturbing," he murmured at last. "That Rukia would request you buy a large number of such... items, or that you would actually agree to do so."

Now it was Rukia's turn for her eyes to pop out in dismay.

"Nii-sama!" Rukia exclaimed, her face as red as a tomato. "These aren't- they're not for me! They're for the members of the Women's Association! They had asked me to make purchases for them the next time I was in the living world, since I go far more often than any of them do!"

"And even if they were all for Rukia-chan, if she asked me to, I'd still buy them for her!" Orihime added loyally. "That's what friends are for!"

"Friends are for buying huge sackfuls of unnaturally-sized sex toys?" Renji demanded, incredulous and horrified. "That is  _not at all_ what friends are for! Friends are for getting drunk with, and teaming up when you get in bar fights, and playing soccer! They're not for buying dildoes and vibrators!"

"And nipple clamps and butt-plugs," Rukia added absently as she started to rummage through the bags, starting to recover from her embarrassment now that she realized her brother was- miracle of miracles- teasing her.

Orihime was scandalized but starting to have fun with the insanity of it all. "And cock-rings and fur-lined handcuffs," she whispered, trying and failing to stifle a nervous giggle. "There was something called a spreader-bar on the list, but they were all out. So please apologize to Unohana-taichou that I couldn't get that for her."

Renji and Byakuya exchanged a glance at that point; it seemed that still waters ran deep in the case of Unohana-taichou.

Rukia began to haul the bags toward the house, intent on putting them in her room so she could distribute them to their respective new owners on the morrow, but Orihime stopped her.

"Some of the batteries are mine," she said. "For- for my toothbrush! And my stereo!" she hastened to add when Renji and Byakuya exchanged another look. "And I bought a few presents for people!" She dug a slim CD case from one of the sacks, holding it out toward Byakuya. "I thought you'd like this. It seems like the sort of music you'd enjoy."

Byakuya stared down at the CD in his hand, then up at Orihime with a frown. "I have no way of using this."

"I do!" she replied cheerfully. "That's why I got the batteries for myself, so we could play it!" She tilted her head to the side and considered his lack of technological acuity. "Would you like me to hang on to it until we get a chance to listen to it?"

"If you wish." Truth be told, Byakuya had no idea what to do, either with the CD or the girl. He was not accustomed to being the recipient of impromptu gifts. "...thank you," he said at last, deciding that gratitude would not go amiss.

The girls grabbed the shopping bags Orihime had returned with, and the group entered the house and began walking down the hall, Byakuya and Orihime in front and Rukia behind with Renji, the two still arguing in whisper.

"You're welcome!" Orihime beamed up at him. "I wanted to thank you for being so generous in letting me stay here! It's been a lot of fun so far!"

It... had? Byakuya tried to think what, exactly, in the past week had been 'fun' and came up blank.

"And you've been so nice," she continued blithely. "It's been great to get to know you better, after all these years. You're a lot funnier than I thought you would be."

He stopped walking and turned to just stare at her in disbelief; from the corner of his eye, he could see Renji and Rukia staring likewise at their friend.

"I'm sorry," Orihime said the moment she noticed she was the center of their attention. "Are you not used to compliments? That's sad. Everyone should get to hear good things about themselves." She reached out and patted his forearm, clearly intending to comfort him. "I'll make sure to let you know how much I appreciate you, so you can get used to it!"

Her face lit up, then. "Same for you two!" she informed Rukia and Renji. "Rukia-chan, I know I've thanked you already for going to so much trouble to seal my memories to me, and wanting me to stay here, you're so loving and generous!" Rukia blinked. "And Renji-kun, you're so loyal and handsome and protective! The best friend a person could ask for."

She smiled radiantly at them all before jostling the bag in her arms with a faint blush. "Who knew a bag of these things would be so heavy! I guess fisting gloves and strap-on harnesses weigh more than you'd think. Rukia-chan, let's go put everything down."

Byakuya watched them go, and felt somewhat disgruntled. His tattooed half-wit of a lieutenant was handsome but he, Byakuya, scion of the noble house of Kuchiki, was  _funny_? The girl had to live in a separate plane of existence.

"I never knew you were such a comedian, taichou," Renji commented as they progressed down the hallway toward the lounge. He shot his captain a sly sideways glance and crossed his arms nonchalantly behind his head. "Wish I were funny. Guess I'll just have to settle for being protective. And loyal.  _And_ handsome."

"Like a Rottweiler," Byakuya murmured with a sideways glance of his own. "You do drool enough to qualify." Renji's smirk faltered.

From behind them, a giggle sounded, and they turned to see Orihime standing there with Rukia, having deposited their burdens in their bedrooms.

"See?" said Orihime. "That was funny."

"I'll take your word for it," Renji said, clearly unconvinced.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, making them all jump a little. "We went to a photo booth and got pictures of everyone for all our friends here in Soul Society!" She dashed back to her room and returned seconds later, waving a big paper envelope as she plunked herself down at the low stable between Rukia and Byakuya.

Orihime pulled out a stack of large, glossy photos and began handing them around. "This is the best one," she said of the photo on top. In it, six of them had managed to jam themselves into the purikuri booth. Ichigo, Uryuu, and Mizuiro were seated with Chizuru seated on Ichigo's lap, Tatsuki on Mizuiro's, and an oddly familiar-seeming blonde girl on Uryuu's in the middle. The girls, Uryuu, and Mizuiro were smiling; Ichigo looked cranky but wasn't frowning outright. Sado, having no hope in hell of fitting in the booth with them, contented himself with poking in his head sideways, fingers in a peace sign beside his impassive face.

"Who's the strange girl?" Rukia asked, puzzled.

"That's me!" said Orihime with a laugh. "I got the gigai from Urahara-san, and he made it look like how he would look if he were a woman. It was weird to be so different! But kind of fun, at the same time."

The next photo was all of them in the same pose, but the blonde Urahara-like Orihime held up a little sign that said, "Wish you were here!" with hearts and stars drawn around the words. "I have copies of this one for you, Rukia-chan, and you, Renji-kun, because we missed you a lot! And also for Rangiku-chan and Toushirou-kun and Ikkaku-san and Yumichika-san! It would have been so fun if all of you had been with us!"

"Where, at the pervert shop?" Renji drawled. "Rangiku and Yumi would have had a ball, but Hitsu-taichou and Ikkaku would have freaked out. And we-" his hand gestured to indicate himself and Rukia "-would not have stepped foot inside."

"Speak for yourself, idiot," Rukia muttered, flicking to the next photo and grinning. It showed the group, again, except this time Mizuiro had gotten his hands on a sparkly pink vibrator and was holding it aloft like Excaliber just pulled from the stone- it appeared to have been switched on because it was a little blurry. The group's reaction was comical; Tatsuki, in Mizuiro's lap, had jerked so far away from him that she bonked her head on Sado's- the photo had been snapped at the exact moment that their skulls made contact, if Sado's expression of pain was anything to go by.

Chizuru was leaning forward, trying to grab the vibrator from Mizuiro. Ichigo's face was a mottled fuschia. Orihime was falling off Uryuu's lap, her face a bug-eyed mask of alarm and her hair flying back from the force of her tumbling to the floor. Uryuu's eyes were wide, too, behind his glasses, and his hands were stretched out as if to catch her.

The next photo was the aftermath. Tatsuki and Sado were rubbing their abused pates, and Orihime was standing, leaning over to brush off her knees while Chizuru, behind her, leered at Orihime's bottom. Ichigo had his eyes closed while pinching the bridge of his nose in disgust, and Uryuu and Mizuiro appeared to be arguing. The vibrator was not in evidence.

"Those two were the first pictures," Orihime said. "It took a while for us to settle down and behave so we could get the shot we wanted to give everyone."

"I think I prefer the candid ones," Rukia said with a mischievous grin. "But I wish I'd been there, too. It does look fun."

"Next time, you have to come along! You too, Renji-kun! I promise we won't go to the pervert store," she added quickly, stilling the protest on his lips. "We'll just go stuff ourselves on yummy food and take silly pictures."

"Maybe I  _wanted_ to go to the pervert store," Rukia grumbled.

"We'll sneak away, and I'll show it to you," Orihime whispered, thinking the men couldn't hear her. Byakuya flicked a glance to Renji that said,  _You will not allow my sister to visit that place alone_ and Renji's answering glare said,  _Duh, of course not._

They had already eaten; it was now time for the post-prandial perambulation (also known as the after-dinner walk) through the Kuchiki estate's grounds.

"The tea garden tonight?" Rukia suggested, and they headed that way, she and Renji in the lead, bickering as they walked, with Orihime and Byakuya following behind.

"Thank you again for letting me use the senkaimon, Byakuya-sama," said Orihime. "It was so wonderful to see everyone again. I'm... I'm not good at handling loss. I think that's why my zanpakutou abilities have manifested as they have... why I'm able to reject reality. I've been able to harness the power of my own denial mechanism. If that's not a head case, I don't know what is." She gave a little laugh. "But then they always say the craziest people of all are psychiatrists.

"I'm probably too clingy in general. Physically as well as emotionally. I think I'm more of a touchy-feely person than I realized," she continued. "I'm used to hugging my friends or touching them more than I have done with everyone here in Soul Society. I didn't get a lot of affection when I was little, so I'm trying to make up it now."

 _Who_ did  _get lots of affection as a child?_ Byakuya wondered irritably. Certainly not he. Were they to have another soul-baring conversation? Was this to become the norm with her residing on the Kuchiki estate?

"I miss my brother," she whispered.  _Soul-baring conversation it is, then_ , he thought grimly, resigning himself to it even as he felt a startling sense of cameraderie at her obvious grief.

"I miss my wife," he replied before he could catch himself, and was horrified at the lapse of his self-control, then again when he felt her little hand slip into his and give a gentle squeeze.

"But we have to accept that they're gone," she continued, withdrawing her hand. Its absence made him feel a little lonelier. "We won't be able to move on unless we do. I don't intend on spending the rest of my life torn up." She glanced sideways at him. "And I consider you a friend now, Byakuya-sama, so I won't let you do that, either."

He had to admire her determination, misguided as it was. "I am perfectly capable of handling my own grief," he informed her.

"But you're  _not_ ," she replied, seeming startled as she stopped walking and turned to face him. Rukia and Renji, caught up in their own conversation, didn't notice and walked on. "It's been sixty years and you're still mourning her. That's not healthy. How many opportunities for happiness have you passed up because of it?"

"Do not try to work your healing on me," he said coldly, his eyes glacial in the spill of cool moonlight. "You presume much."

"I'm sorry," she said immediately. "I don't mean to offend. I just want you to be happy."

"Why?" he asked, and began to walk again; behind him, he heard the sound of her feet on the path's stones as she hurried to catch up to him. "Why does it matter to you if I am happy or not? What would be the result if I were not?"

"If I didn't at least  _try_ to help you be happy..." Orihime paused, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. "I would feel guilty. Like there were more I could do, and just didn't, and it would be my fault..."

"You are responsible for the contentment of the world, then?" His tone was dry, and he knew she'd gotten his point when her face lit up in a smile.

"It's pretty ridiculous, when put that way, huh?" She sighed. "I guess I have to stop feeling like I'm supposed to take care of everyone. But it's part of my nature, to love everyone! So I don't know if I  _can_ stop."

"Is that what love is?" Byukuya wondered aloud. "To be concerned with another's happiness?"

Orihime glanced up at him, clearly startled. "Isn't it? What else  _is_ there to love?"

"Is there not some more selfish component? A sense of possession, or the craving for whatever pleasure is to be found?" They were edging on more risky territory here, and Byakuya knew he should back away, should steer them toward a safer zone, but he was feeling reckless tonight. "Or a feeling of security, or of pride to be in the company of an enviable person?"

She looked thoughtful. "I've felt possessive before," she said, "but I don't know much about the pleasure stuff." She looked embarrassed at that. "And the security and pride... I haven't, uh, actually been in a romantic relationship before. So I don't know."

 _Ah._ That explained much. "Kurosaki and his inexplicable blindness where your affection is concerned, I presume?"

"Even you know about that?" Orihime said with a rather charming pout, then sighed. "Yes, though I've sworn him off for a few years now. And now that I'm dead, so are any chances for a relationship with him." She sighed. "But Rangiku-chan says I have to be open to exploring new options, so I'm looking to fresh horizons!" She pumped a fist in the air for emphasis. "So bring on the men, world! I'm ready for them!"

Byakuya made a show of glancing around, as if waiting for the hordes of suitors sure to be approaching at any moment. When none were forthcoming, he turned back to Orihime to find her trying to be stern and failing miserably, because she started laughing.

"Being funny again, taichou?" Renji asked as he and Rukia came up the path toward them.

"So it would seem," answered Byakuya pleasantly. "Pity your handsomeness was not up to par tonight." He turned and entered the house, leaving them to follow, Orihime giggling behind her hand.

That seemed to indicated that it was time for Renji to leave; Rukia showed him out, leaving Byakuya and Orihime alone.

"I will give you another shunpou lesson soon," Byakuya said after a while, more to have a reason to change the subject than for anything else.

"Oh, yay!" she replied, her face lighting up with pleasure.

"I expect you will have practiced since your first lesson," he continued.

"I did! I promise! I'll be so good at it, you won't believe it!"

He was sure that was true.


	10. Chapter 10

"Are you sure it's okay for us to be meeting here?" Orihime asked nervously as she stepped into the room that Yachiru had chosen for this month's Shinigami Women's Association meeting. Most of the high-ranking female officers were in attendance, lounging around various low tables of food and drink while they waited for the meeting to commence.

"Relaaaaaaax," said Rangiku, waving a lazy hand in dismissal. "Unohana-taichou did that sealing kidou that's suppressing our reiatsu. Nothing'll get past that sucker."

"Nii-sama is still at work," Rukia added. "He won't be home until dinnertime, the meeting will long be over by then."

Orihime figured that should be alright, though she felt marginally guilty for sneaking around on the estate when she knew full well that Byakuya did not want the Women's Association meeting there. She lapsed into silence while everyone else chatted amongst themselves.

"Orihime-san," said Isane, leaning back to gain a clear line-of-sight with the other woman, "I wanted to ask you something... some of us in the Fourth- Hanatarou-kun, eighth seat Ogidou-san, and myself- hold free healing clinics a few times a week out in Rukongai. Each of us is responsible for one quarter, and we go to a different district each time. The ninth seat used to do it too, but she recently became pregnant and travelling back and forth has become too much for her. So now there's no one to go to South Rukongai, and I was wondering if you might be interested in doing it? I ask because I know you like to help others, and these people are so very poor-"

"Of course I'll help!" said Orihime, her eyes shining. This would be just the thing to help her keep busy until she decided what she wanted to do on a permanent basis! "When? Where? I can-"

"Everyone is present?" interrupted Nanao briskly, pushing up her glasses as she prepared to begin.

"We'll talk about it more later," whispered Isane. Orihime nodded back enthusiastically.

"I call this meeting to order," Nanao continued. "First order of business: welcome the newest member of our association, Inoue Orihime. She is not yet an official shinigami, but she has a zanpakutou, and after consultation with the membership at large, it was agreed that this is sufficient to be accepted into the Association."

"Yay, Orihime-chan!" shouted Rangiku; everyone else added their greetings, albeit somewhat more sedately. Orihime blushed a little, happy to be welcomed so warmly.

"Next order of business," Nanao continued. "Unohana-taichou would like to speak to us-"

"What will Byakuya-sama do if he finds us doing this here?" Orihime muttered to Rukia, her eyes wide in apprehension, while Nanao droned on.

"He will probably behave with perfect decorum as always," Rukia mumbled back, her own eyes equally big. "But he'll  _want_ to shred them into tiny little pieces with Senbonzakura, and then be furious the rest of the day because he wasn't able to."

"If I may have your attention, ladies?" Unohana-taichou inquired gently, having come to stand at the front of the room behind the lectern. "Today I will provide a lesson on a very important aspect of feminine health."

Orihime and Rukia obediently faced front and zipped their lips, though not without somewhat of a sinking feeling as they recognized the bags sitting on the floor at Unohana's feet. They were very familiar-looking bags, and there was a flash of eye-searing purple latex at the very top of one...

"Oh, god," Orihime breathed in horror. "She's going to talk about-"

"Masturbation," Unohana announced. "Sexuality is a core need of women, akin to eating and sleeping, yet we routinely ignore it, and to our detriment."

Around them, Isane was slowly turning a mottled scarlet; Kiyone looked more interested than grossed out, however, while Nanao just heaved a mighty, resigned sigh. Rangiku and Yoruichi (why was she there? who knew? but she loved the Association meetings) were grinning in delight. Soi Fong, in whose lap Yoruichi was lounging contentedly while eating grapes, was blushing but resolute; if her Yoruichi-sama wanted to be present at such a lesson, then she too would persevere. Nemu was blank as always, but Momo seemed determined to glean whatever she could from Unohana-taichou, even as she blushed brightly.

Unohana smiled serenely and reached for the bulging sack. "As you know, ladies, I believe fully in the important role of sexual fulfillment in a woman's life. Just because one might not be in a relationship is no excuse to neglect one's physical needs."

She began to remove items from the bag, placing them in neat rows on the table before her. "Orgasms not only provide pleasure, but stimulate endorphins and provide a means of relaxation, thus promoting sound sleep. Lacking a partner is irrelevant when one has the means to achieve climax alone."

Unohana gazed down at the array of sex toys before her and back up at the woman arranged around her. "A woman is responsible for her own pleasure. When with a partner, this means she should feel comfortable in directing him, or her, in how to better pleasure her. Without a partner, this can mean employing other tactics." She looked around the room at each woman. "How many of you have already used a sex aid of some sort?"

Rangiku's hand was the first in the air, of course, with Yoruichi's a close second. Nanao pushed her glasses up, her face inscrutable, as her hand went up for a split second. To Orihime's surprise, Momo's hand went up as well, even as the girl blushed furiously.

"And the rest of you have merely found manual satisfaction?" Unohana continued, waiting patiently for input from each woman.

Orihime's face felt very warm; she knew she was blushing too. To her left, Rukia's face was pink. Studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone, and fixing their gazes on opposite corners, they each nodded.

"As professional women," Unohana continued, "it is often difficult to find the time to spare in obtaining a partner, and that contributes to the neglect of our sexuality and the need for physical release. Therefore, it is essential that you be aware of alternatives to having an actual bedmate, and be able to bring yourself to orgasm. First, we will discuss the basics of penetrative sex, and how one can achieve it without an actual man."

She bent and plucked the purple dildo, last seen being waved about by Renji, from the bag and held it up so everyone could take a nice long look at it. "This is an artificial phallus; specifically, a dildo," Unohana announced.

"Oh, god, she really said it," groaned Isane, putting her hands over her face in despair. "Why didn't I believe her?"

"You never do, Isane dear," commented Unohana, "and it is always to your detriment. Depending on your experience with being penetrated," she continued, ignoring how at least half of her audience was cringing, "you will prefer different sizes of phallus.."

She plucked two more from the bag: one slightly smaller than the purple one, and one somewhat larger.

"Virgins should start with one of more modest size," said Unohana, indicating the little blue one, "while someone with a significant amount of experience in intercourse would probably enjoy a larger dildo," and she nodded toward the big green one.

"Some women require more stimulation than mere penetration, and for them we have a vibrator." Now a glossy black phallus with a square white base made an appearance. Unohana flicked a switch and it began to vibrate with a steady hum. "It is also especially useful for those women who have difficulty achieving climax; when applied directly to the clitoris, even the most anorgasmic woman can enjoy a satisfactory result!"

"This is hell," Isane was moaning. "I'm in hell."

"No, dear, you're just hopelessly repressed," Unohana told her sweetly.

"I don't think I'm repressed, but this feels pretty hellish to me, too," Orihime muttered to Rukia, who just nodded because she was feeling a little queasy.

Nemu blinked. "The proximity detector I attached to Kusajishi-fukutaichou has activated," she announced tonelessly. "I estimate she will locate and join us in approximately one minute and forty-two seconds."

"Everyone hurry and grab a toy before she gets here," said Rangiku, hopping up and reaching for a dildo of intimidating size with a rather scary-looking array of knobbles all over it. Yoruichi had been reaching for it as well, and they eyed each other like prize fighters before a match until Nemu stretched a hand between them and grabbed it for herself.

"There are enough for everyone," Unohana said with warm encouragement, trying to press the purple one into Orihime's hand.

"Oh, no, not that one, I couldn't," Orihime gasped. "Renji was waving it around... I just couldn't."

"Renji, huh?" asked Kiyone with a grin, and plucked it from Unohana's hand. "Don't mind if I do." She either didn't notice, or ignored, Rukia's sudden narrowing of eyes in her direction.

"T minus thirty-seven seconds until Kusajishi-fukutaichou's arrival," said Nemu. She had tucked the big knobbly dildo into her obi, where it already looked like she was trying (without much success) to smuggle a number of contraband cucumbers.

The risk of Yachiru discovering the cache of sex toys seemed to galvanize the more reluctant of the women in a way that mere enticement of physical pleasure could not; they began snatching up whatever they could reach and stuffing them away in their uniforms, and it was with the barest of margins that Momo was hiding the last stray butt plug in a fold of her hakama when Yachiru burst upon the scene.

She stared at them beadily, seeming to understand with uncanny awareness that they were hiding something significant from her. Her big eyes flickered around the room, resting upon each and every jittery woman with the piercing intent of a police detective fishing for a confession.

"What," she demanded at long last, "are all these batteries doing here?"

All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room; even Unohana seemed at a loss for what to say.

"Kusajishi-fukutaichou," said Nemu tonelessly, "come have your snack."

"Ooh, snacktime!" Yachiru exclaimed, forgetting all about the batteries and any secret her fellow shinigami might be keeping, and pelted toward the plate where a quarter of a cake reposed in wait for her.

From there, the meeting continued as normal, with regular issues being discussed, until with great relief everyone except Rukia and Orihime departed the estate.

"I'm exhausted," Orihime said as they trudged from the meeting room, located in a far-distant wing of the manor house, toward the main section where they lived. "That was exhausting. Can we not do that again? Ever?"

"Do what?"

Both girls  _eeped_ and whirled around to find Byakuya had flash-stepped to a stop behind them, freshly arrived home after work.

Unfortunately for them, their swift motion unsettled the moorings of their illicit cargo, and sex toys came raining out of their clothing to patter down by their feet: Orihime dropped a bright orange "rabbit" vibrator, a shiny metal cock-and-balls cage, and a pair of zebra-print handcuffs, while Rukia's bounty consisted of two dildoes screwed into a "double penetration" strap-on harness of red patent leather and a flesh-colored butt plug the size of a man's forearm. It had very realistic veining along the shaft.

Silence fell.

Byakuya solemnly studied the items that had tumbled to the floor.

"No wonder you are so tired," he commented, and walked away.

* * *

Orihime was feeling pretty confident, going into her second shunpou lesson; she'd had a little while to get past her mortification from dropping the sex toys at Byakuya's feet. Once back in her bedroom with the toys- which she had  _fully_ intended on handing over to Rangiku at earliest convenience- she'd gotten curious and given the rabbit vibrator a whirl.

That had been three days ago; after three days of exploration and adventuring (so to speak), Orihime now felt like a new woman. She was looking at the world in a whole new, and immeasurably relaxed, way. She'd managed to get past a lifetime's programming of feeling weird about sex and diddling herself; shunpou? No problem!

This time, however, instead of having the lesson take place at the Sixth Division "where those halfwits can interrupt again", Byakuya had instructed her to follow him to a wide-open, grassy space in South Rukongai's first district.

"This time, your priority is speed," he told Orihime. "You will do nothing but attempt to catch up to me. This is not to say you  _can_ catch up to me, because you cannot. But you will try."

And off he went, so fast that the air didn't blur around him: he was simply  _gone_ , appearing again a few seconds later at the very far edge of the field, a mere smudge against the green of the treeline. Orihime took a deep breath and followed him.

Byakuya began doing what amounted to a gigantic lap around the field, touching foot to earth perhaps once every quarter-lap, with Oriime trailing sadly behind. Sometimes he would stop and give her instructions: "Be thinking about the next step before the present one is finished" and "Roll forward from your heel to the ball of your foot for a smooth, uninterrupted step".

At one point, he was so far ahead of her that he was on the opposite side of the field, so she skipped the corner between them and shot crosswise over it, even managing to snag his sleeve before he leapt away. His face, a mask of surprise, was something she thought she'd prize forever (even as she knew she'd managed it only by cheating). It took him only seconds to realize she'd cheated, and he came back to her and glowered until she was giggling helplessly.

"C'mon, Byakuya-sama, it was just a joke," she said, and poked him in the shoulder. "Where's that famous sense of humor?"

"My sense of humor is famous only to you," he replied sourly, glancing at his shoulder in frank disbelief at her daring. "And only because you are simple-minded."

That just made her laugh harder, which actually made him roll his eyes. Not much- just the tiniest sliver of white showed at the bottom of his silvery irises- but it was enough to keep her giggling even after he flash-stepped away.

In pursuit once again, Orihime wondered if it were okay that she hadn't done anything to thank him for this lesson. She'd wanted to do another picnic, but recalled how abruptly he'd departed it, and decided that picnics were perhaps not something he enjoyed or wanted repeated. There had to be something else she could do... what was she good at that he would appreciate?

It came to her in a flash: she could sew. And he liked that crazy seaweed ambassador thing. She could make him a stuffed plushie of it!

"Hah!" she exclaimed in triumph.

And then slammed with considerable force into Byakuya's back, because he'd stopped to give her more instructions and she hadn't been paying close enough attention.

"Oof!" said Orihime as she bounced off the rock-solid plane of his back and fell onto her butt, a stream of blood from her nose flying through the air in her wake. Pain lanced through her face, bringing tears to her eyes even as she cursed herself as a total idiot.

"Ugh." She tried to get to her feet but the world swam around her so she just plopped back down on the ground.

"Why did you not see that I had stopped?" he asked, sounding graver than usual, and... concerned? His eyes were a bit wider than usual, too. Was he worried about her?

"I was thinking about something else." And boy, was she paying for that now. She must be a hideous mess of blood and tears and snot if even Byakuya was worried. She couldn't seem to stop crying, but it just hurt so damned  _much_. "But I think I was going at a pretty good clip, eh, Byakuya-sama?"

"We'll discuss it later," he informed her. "For now... heal yourself."

With a thought, Orihime activated her Shun Shun Rikka; two points of light appeared to either side of her head and began to reverse the damage she'd done to herself. As they worked on returning her nose to its previous unbroken state, Orihime scrubbed at her face with her sleeve, shocked at how much blood had poured from her.

"I must look hideous," she said wryly.

Byakuya blinked slowly, as if assimilating her statement and pondering it carefully. "Not  _hideous_ ," he said at last, "though it must be said that you are not at your best."

She laughed, then was sorry she had, as it made her entire head ache like she'd taken a mallet to the face. "Oh, ow," she whimpered as tears and blood dripped off her chin. "I know I'm a wimp, especially after all the damage I've seen Kurosaki-kun and Renji-kun and Uryuu-kun and Toshiro-kun and Sado-kun take over the years. Oh, and you too, Byakuya-sama! You've all been through so much and bear it so stoically... I just break my nose and I cry like a baby."

"It's fine," he murmured, the deepness of his voice soothing to her frazzled nerves. "I'm sure you've endured things that would have them crying like babies."

"Them... but not you?" she had to tease him. The healing had reversed the injury to where she was just a bit sore, now, and the tears had stopped coming. Her eyes were swollen from the crying, and directed the fairies to put them back to normal, too.

"There is nothing that could make me cry like anything, least of all a baby." There was a glint of amusement in his eyes and to the set of his mouth, like with just a little more enticement he might smile. Maybe. Almost.

"Did you cry like a baby when you  _were_ a baby?" Orihime asked him, joking but also wondering a little.

"I was the most amenable of children," Byakuya replied coolly.

"Really? Because Yoruichi-san told us that you were a demon beast." She took great delight in informing him of that, and even more to note the faint flush that tinted his cheeks pink before swiftly fading.

"A shameless, unmitigated lie," he informed her, his voice flat. "That woman delights in spreading blatant untruths about me."

"I bet you were cute," sighed Orihime as she sealed the two sparks that were Shu'nou and Lily back into her zanpakutou. "All messy hair and big eyes, trying to be dignified..." She barely managed to stifle a squee at the mental image of a haughty toddler Byakuya.

"There was no trying. I  _was_ dignified. And continue to be so, to this day." He turned away, then, surveying their surroundings. "Are you completely healed? If so, then I believe this area would be acceptable for me to display my bankai to you, if you are still interested in witnessing it."

"Are we done with the lesson?" Orihime looked ruefully down at her blood-stained shirt, now completely ruined. It had been one of her favorites, too.

"Was there some other part of your body you wished to injure?" He quirked an eyebrow.

She laughed, this time without the excruciating pain, and got to her feet. "No, I think breaking my nose was enough."

"Stand here. Do not move at all," he directed, pointing Orihime exactly where he wanted her, then surprising her by standing directly behind her, so close she could feel the cloth of his kosode brush and mingle with the fabric of her shirt. Though no part of his body was touching any part of hers, it felt somehow very intimate, and Orihime could not repress a single shiver of awareness of how near he was as the mood took an abrupt and confusing shift.

Byakuya curved his arm around Orihime, a sliver of space between them so they did not touch, and held Zenbonzakura vertically up in front of them. She watched with wide eyes as he murmured, "Chire." His reiatsu burgeoned, flickering and prickling over her skin, and the sword dissolved into a thousand tiny, glimmering shards before floating away on the wind.

"I can control it with my mind," he said, stock-still behind her, his thoughts driving the swoop and swirl of blades as he sent them on a freeform dance through the air around them. "But if I direct it with my hands, my accuracy is greatly increased."

He lifted his hands and, with a few deft motions, directed the blades through the leafy branches of a distant tree. Orihime gasped to see that only the leaves of certain branches had been removed, and where before had been a thick profusion of foliage, now the Kanji for the number "six" was clearly visible through the tree. As the blades coursed back toward them, Byakuya flicked his fingers, and a shower of leaves drifted over and around them- the leaves cut out for the 6 had been carried back by the blades at his whim, and how rained down upon them both.

Orihime spun around to face him, leaves falling from her as she did. "Byakuya-sama! That was amazing!" She reached up and plucked a leaf off his head, smiling joyously up at him. "And that's just shikai! I can't wait to see your bankai!"

He just stared down at her, and she realized suddenly how closely they were standing, and how intimate a gesture it was, to pull leaves from his hair. "Sorry!" she squeaked; quickly, feeling embarrassed, Orihime spun back around to face forward. "I'm ready to see your bankai now!" she said, forcing a note of oblivious enthusiasm into her voice.

Behind her, Byakuya was silent for so long that she thought he had decided not to go through with it after all. Just as the silence became so heavy that Orihime was about to start jabbering about something mindless to end it, he spoke. "Bankai."

Byakuya held out his sword, point down, and dropped it into the ground, which rippled as if turned to liquid where the sword pierced and disappeared into it. "Senbonzakura Kageyoshi."

The ground beneath them shivered; Byakuya's reiatsu swelled and flowed, almost tangible as it swept over her, and Orihime found herself shivering, too, as sleek silver swords rose in two long rows around them. When they reached full extension, they burst into fragments and began rushing in chaotic patterns in every direction. It was like his shikai, but so much  _more_ ; the pressure and movement of the heightened reiatsu felt almost like a physical caress over her body, and Orihime realized she was breathing hard as his power coursed through her. She gasped over and over, forcing herself to focus on what Byakuya's bankai was doing rather than the extraordinary sensations she was feeling.

"Senkai." The waves of blades began to coalesce into swords, hundreds of them, glowing pink as they hovered in a towering column around Orihime and Byakuya. The reiatsu blasting inward toward them from the rings of swords blew her hair back. "There are fewer blades to this attack, with the power more concentrated in each." He held out a hand, and one of the pink swords shot from the column to place itself into his grasp. "I can use any or all of them at my whim."

"Goukei." The rows of swords melted back into petal-like shards; this time they formed a sphere that swirled in a dance of vicious beauty. "When I use this attack, that sphere surrounds my opponent. There is no escape. The blades shoot inward to shred him to pulp, but it causes an immense shock wave of reactive reiatsu that I must flash-step to escape if I do not wish to also be shredded. Since there is no reason to release such destruction, I will refrain from demonstrating."

"Sounds good to me," Orihime agreed woozily. She felt warm all over, and there was a tingling heat concentrated at the tips of her breasts and between her legs. She realized that she was turned on, and not just a little bit: she was in a full-fledged state of female  _heat_ , and it was all due to Kuchiki Byakuya and his reiatsu flooding over her body. She blamed Tatsuki, 100%. If Tatsuki hadn't gone and insisted that Orihime  _liked_ him-liked him, then she'd never begin to have even a single stray thought about him in  _that_ way.

"This is my final ability," he continued. "You will want to turn around to see it."

Orihime shuffled in place until she was facing him, aware- again- how close they stood. And how good he smelled; the reiatsu blowing off him was like snow and cherry blossom petals at the same time. His smell made her wonder if he tasted just as good, and she repressed the urge to lick her chops at the prospect. This was all Tatsuki's fault.

"Shuukei, Hakuteiken," he intoned.

The sphere disappeared in a blink of an eye, and the usual pinkish light of Senbonzakura faded into a pure white energy that began uncurling and undulating into the shape of feathers, until an enormous set of wings pulsed from Byakuya's back. Connecting them in an arc over his head was a halo. Orihime's jaw dropped open.

Slowly, almost lazily, he began to flap those glorious white wings, and Orihime was now certain she was about to faint; the pressure of Byakuya's reiatsu was so monstrous now that her skin felt as if it were being scoured by sand, and a grey mist was beginning to cloud the edges of her vision. Her knees sagged, and though she fought to remain standing, she slumped against him.

The shock of contact, his chest against hers, sent a shudder through her as his free left arm came around her waist to hold her up, and Orihime dropped her head to his shoulder, her world narrowing to the thud of his heart beneath her cheek. It was probably for the best, that her strength was gone, because otherwise she wasn't sure she wouldn't make a pass at his immaculate self and that would probably end badly for her.

"Push out with your own reiatsu," he murmured in her ear. "You are strong, yourself. Do this."

His breath was a warm caress against the sensitive curve of her ear; Orihime shuddered again. She fisted her hand in his kosode, gasping for breath, and made herself focus on his directive. She struggled to find her reiatsu, but for the first time ever, it had a slippery feel, like a fish wriggling to escape her grasp. Again she tried, trying to convert Byakuya's power into her own, and finally- after what felt like years, but was probably only moments- managed to take hold of her reiatsu. She began to increase it, but it was so difficult to push back the weight of his, but when she realized she could breath a little easier, and felt more strength in her legs, she knew it was working. Steadily, she kept going until she could breathe regularly once more.

"Good," he said, flapping his wings again.

And suddenly, they were aloft.

Orihime barely stifled a shriek, her arms coming up to clasp his neck even though his arm was a band of steel around her waist. She was far too weak to manage shunpou at this moment; it was all she could do to maintain her reiatsu level so she didn't pass out. "You can fly with these, too?"

"What good are wings if you cannot fly with them?" Byakuya asked, sounding amused, and began to soar over the rooftops of Rukongai.

Orihime blinked, absorbing that until it made more sense, and then realized that she was wasting this once-in-a-lifetime experience by hiding her face against his (hard, muscular) chest. Though she did not slacken her own iron grip around his neck, she craned her head until she had a full view of the world around her. And oh, what a view...

This was not something she would ever see with shunpou; that went far too fast. This more leisurely mode of travel offered the time to visually explore one's surroundings, take in the whole splendor at once. Rukongai stretched out before them, the intricate patterns and paths of the buildings and streets spread out for their perusal, and Seireitei beckoned in the distance

The immense power flowing from them both was attracting attention; they were not too terribly high up, perhaps just a hundred feet, and thus easily noticed. People were running out of buildings and pointing up at them; the buzz of their amazement could be heard even at their altitude.

Byakuya turned westward and swooped over the closest division, the Tenth. Rangiku's bright golden hair flew behind her like a banner as she ran out to see what was going on, Toushirou just a few seconds behind her. Orihime laughed at the expression of outright amazement on Rangiku's face, though she understood it entirely; if she'd been watching Kuchiki Byakuya flying with huge white wings over Seireitei while a girl clung to him (in, it must be admitted, abject terror) she'd gape in shock as well.

Then her jaw did fall open, because Toushirou flash-stepped up to them. Byakuya easily paused, wings flapping lazily to maintain their position aloft, as his fellow captain joined them.

"You're disrupting things," Toushirou said flatly, his eyes chilly as they bored into Byakuya's. "You of all people should be aware of how difficult it is to get our subordinates to work in the first place; I don't need you performing circus acts and distracting them." By 'our subordinates' and 'them' he meant, of course, Rangiku (who was currently standing on the ground, waving frantically up at them while she shouted something Orihime couldn't hear (later, she would learn it was, "You go, girl!")

"Indeed," was Byakuya's response. "My apologies." He did not sound in the least apologetic. With a flip of a wing, he turned them around and began flying them- albeit at a pace so slow, it was certainly intended as insult to his peer's daring to scold him- back toward the Kuchiki estate.

As he descended toward the clearing in the middle of The Thicket, Orihime could see two figures waiting below- one tiny and dark, the other large and red-headed. Byakuya touched them to earth with the deftness that characterized everything he did while Rukia and Renji watched, mouths open in amazement.

"Nii-sama," Rukia croaked. "We felt your reiatsu, then Orihime-chan's... we thought... a battle, since you never... Nii-sama."

"...Yeah," agreed Renji, appearing not more eloquent than she.

"You may release me," Byakuya told Orihime, and she found that while he had let her go several seconds previous, her arms were still clamped around his neck. And she had a crick in her neck from keeping it turned so sharply for so long.

"Oh!" She quickly pulled away from him and promptly fell over. Various parts of her were still throbbing in arousal. The lingering effects of fright and amazement still gripped her, as well. She doubted she'd be able to walk anytime soon.

"Orihime-chan!" Rukia exclaimed. "Where are you hurt?" She quickly knelt by Orihime's side, hands fluttering uselessly. Orihime realized, belatedly, that her blood-stained shirt must look pretty gory to someone who didn't know what had happened.

"Damn, Taichou, what'd you do to her?" asked Renji in amazement. He peered through narrowed eyes at his captain. "We felt your reiatsu spike in bankai, and then hers went haywire too, and then you were flying all over town..."

But Byakuya was standing there with his eyes closed, and Renji knew he'd get no answers from that block of granite.

"Byakuya-sama was kind enough to give me another shunpou lesson," Orihime said, "and I wasn't paying attention and slammed into his back and broke my nose. It bled a lot, and hurt like you wouldn't believe! But I healed myself and it's fine now. Then Byakuya-sama showed me all the different forms of his bankai. It's so amazing! And the reiatsu of it is so strong! I thought I was going to faint so many times!"

"I thought you did faint," Byakuya commented.

"Not completely. I'd call that more of a swoon than an outright faint," said Orihime, upon consideration. That it had more to do with being swept away by a tidal wave of lust than succumbing to his reiatsu was a detail she decided to keep to herself (though she couldn't refrain from blushing a little because of it).

"You are well?" he murmured to her, head tilted slightly to one side as he surveyed her, and she gently batted Rukia's fussing hands away before gingerly standing.

"Yes, fine," she replied, then bowed (and wobbled a little when her center of gravity shifted). "Thank you so much for the shunpou lesson, then showing me your bankai. It was very humbling to be allowed to observe it. I appreciate your kindness in displaying it to me."

He nodded back, then turned and left.

"So I'm going to go back to the manor and wash up!" she announced pertly to her friends, who were now studying her in perplexity. "I'll see you both at dinner!"

And Orihime did indeed go back and wash, and then she went to her room, dug out the vibrator from its hiding place where she hoped the servants couldn't find it when they cleaned, and indulged in a marathon masturbation session that had her eyes crossing, her toes curling, and her heart pounding.

But most of all, it had her brain worrying that she'd just experienced the best orgasm of her life while thinking about Kuchiki Byakuya, what a bad idea it was to start thinking of him in "that way", and swearing she'd never do it again...

...after one last go. And then certainly, definitely, never again.

Absolutely  _never_.


	11. Chapter 11

Another week, another pub crawl, and this time, Rukia was available to accompany them. Rangiku felt she could now, after a few months of her specialized tutelage, trust Orihime to dress herself in an alluring manner, so Orihime didn't have to trek over to Tenth Division so her friend could primp and prod her into attractiveness.

Orihime decided on a blue skirt with black polka dots and a cute, kind of low-cut black top with a tiny satin bow between the boobs, paired with steep black wedges featuring the most adorable ankle straps. She thought maybe she'd neglected paying attention to fashion for too long, and cursed that she'd spark an interest in it after dying and ending up in a place that was consistently 200 years out-of-style.

The horde announced their arrival with a vehement assault on the gong at the front gate. Dimly in the distance could be heard various hootings and hollerings that the two woman were to present themselves forthwith.

"We should hurry," Rukia said as they made their way up the long hallway, "before they get so rowdy Nii-sama is irritated.'

"Thank you," he said from behind them, making them gasp. Orihime saw that teensy little smile he got at sneaking up on people and decided to tease him back.

"You should come with us, Byakuya-sama!" she exclaimed. "It would be so fun!"

Both Byakuya and Rukia peered at her doubtfully.

"Thank you, no," Byakuya said at last.

Orihime had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "If you change your mind, we'll be somewhere in East Rukongai."

"Hn," was his reply as he ventured back down the hallway, but she could hear the amusement in it.

Once Rukia and Orihime had been led away by the noisy throng, Byakuya settled in to what he'd anticipated would be a peaceful evening of answering letters and, time permitting, a bit of calligraphy. After an hour, however, he found himself unsettled and distracted, and realized he was bored. The room seemed... empty, somehow. Dimmer, as if only half the usual lights were on.

Thus he was relieved when in the distance he heard the gong soundat the outer gate (though with far more restraint than the others before), signaling the approach of a visitor. Byakuya put away his brush and inkstone and made himself ready to entertain.

"I'm sorry to intrude upon you, Kuchiki-taichou," said Outoribashi Roujirou, also known as the Vaizard Rose, when a servant led him in.

"Outoribashi-taichou," he acknowledged, gesturing for him to be seated.

Rose bowed, then knelt formally before his peer. "May I speak with your honored guest, Inoue Orihime-sensei?"

Byakuya's eyebrow lifted. This was unexpected. "I regret to tell you that Inoue-san is not here at the moment."

"I am sorry to hear that; it is a matter of some urgency, I'm afraid. Can you tell me where she went? I will go to find her."

"She went on what Matsumoto-fukutaichou termed a 'pub crawl' with a number of other lieutenants and officers," Byakuya replied. "They could be in one of any number of bars in Rukongai." He frowned in concentration. "Though I do recall someone mentioning they were heading to East Rukongai tonight."

Rose got to his feet. "That gives me a direction to start in, at least," he said heavily. "Thank you for your time, I apologize for disturbing your evening."

"Not at all," demurred Byakuya, secretly pleased to be rescued from what otherwise would have been a terminally dull night. "I will help you search for her."

Rose looked surprised, and Byakuya wondered if his reputation for being emotionless was so bad that people did not expect him to offer his help in a crisis.

"Thank you; I suppose you are more familiar with her reiatsu, that will make it easier." Rose was looking much relieved, and Byakuya wondered what emergency might be had to require Orihime's services for which someone in the Fourth Division would not suffice. He did not, of course, inquire. If there were one thing he respected, it was privacy.

A servant brought a  _haori_ , which Byakuya slipped on over his yukata while making his way to the door. Outside, he took a moment to feel for Orihime's reiatsu; after the last shunpou lesson and how they had permeated each other with their reiatsu, hers was almost as familiar to him as his own, or Rukia's. Even from this distance, though it took some focusing, he could feel her distinctly.

He turned to Rose. "I will bring her to your headquarters."

Rose, again, looked surprised. "You can sense her from here?" Byakuya just stared at him; was his offer acceptable or not? "Of course. Thank you. Please meet me at the Third." He flash-stepped away.

Byakuya fine-tuned his awareness of Orihime's location, then aimed himself that way. It took over a half-hour to flash-step to the 36th District, where the surroundings were beginning to look less aristocratic, like in the lower-numbered districts, but had not quite begin to take a dive toward the shabby. The bar was poorly-lit and low-ceilinged, and Byakuya had to dip his head to keep from brushing the top of the door jamb.

A quick peer around the smoky interior showed him that he knew none of the patrons, but Orihime's reiatsu was clearly present, as were those of his sister and lieutenant and various other powerful shinigami; there must be another room. A cry of  _kanpai_ arose from the rear, and Byakuya made his way in that direction. He had almost stepped through the door when he heard Renji's booze-soaked voice slur, "Taichou?"

The room was filled with Gotei 13 officers, all seated around a single large table in varying stages of having enjoyed the establishment's offerings. Orihime sat at the far end of the table between Matsumoto and Hisagi, leaning sleepily against Hisagi as she peered out from under half-mast eyelids at the rambunctious proceedings around her with a little smile on her lips.

Byakuya made a mental note to give her a stern talking-to about shamelessness in public; every time he turned around, she was draping herself over the Ninth's lieutenant. Not that the man seemed to be objecting; at that moment, he appeared to be trying to slip an overly-nonchalant arm around Orihime's shoulders.

"It  _is_  Kuchiki-taichou!" Renji said triumphantly. "And you said I was too drunk to tell if an elephant sat on my head, Rukia! Look! He's right there in front of us!"

The rest of the group acknowledged his presence with respectful, if wary, greetings. Rukia, of course, looked rapturous and stood to offer him her chair (he refused). Orihime, for her part, lit up in her usual beaming smile and waved happily at him, chirping, "I'm so glad you joined us, Byakuya-sama!"

"I am not joining you," he replied, "I have come to fetch you. One of your patients is in need."

Instantly, her smile dropped. "Oh, no!" She shrugged Hisagi's wandering arm from her shoulders and stood, wobbling a bit on the monumental shoes atop which she was perched. "I don't know what I can do to help someone in this state," she said, sounding very businesslike in spite of her inebriation, "but yes, please take me there."

They left the group chorusing farewells to them (well, to Orihime) in their wake. Outside, Orihime took a deep breath, obviously trying to clear her head. "What's wrong?" she asked him. "Who's having a problem? Where are we going?" She paused. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can do shunpou in this condition."

"It's fine," he said, taking her arm. "I do not know who is troubled, but Outoribashi-tachou came for you; we are going to the Third."

"Ah," she said as he launched them skyward. "It'll be Kira-kun, then. I was afraid of this."

They zipped through the air in silence. Byakuya wondered what she was thinking of- creating a plan of treatment for her ailing patient, perhaps? In spite of his general commitment to maintaining a sense of remote apathy with others unless it was prudent for him to become more involved in their lives, he found himself curious, not only about which mental demons might be tormenting Kira-fukutaichou this evening, but what Orihime would do to beat them back. Not that he would, of course, inquire.

Byakuya flashed them to a stop outside Kira's quarters; Rose was pacing back and forth in the hallway, clearly impatient for their arrival and looking relieved to see them.

"Kira-san has been... ailing... all evening," he said, picking his words with care. "He seemed subdued all day- more than usual, even- and then, not long ago, my 5th seat informed me that Kira-san appeared to be, uh, crying and talking to people who aren't there." He looked very uncomfortable. "Then he locked himself in the bathroom and refused to come out."

"You were right to come get me," Orihime told him, briefly touching his forearm. "I'll go in now."

She opened the door to Kira's quarters and crossed to the bathroom, all traces of awkwardness in the shoes gone as she focused on her work. A pull on the sliding door proved that it was, in fact, locked; Orihime touched a finger to the handle and a golden spark shot out. There was a a  _zing!_  and a flare of light, and then she pushed the door open very gently. Rose made no attempt to shut it behind her, and Byakuya felt no shame in indulging his curiosity.

Orihime stopped short with a sharply indrawn breath, because Kira was laying in the tub, but the water was... pink? Rose stiffened and made to follow, but Byakuya stopped him.

"Let her work," he told his fellow captain.

"Oh, Kira-kun," he heard her say, with such sorrow in her voice.

Kira's head hung limply on the stalk of his neck. His thin chest heaved; it sounded like he was having trouble catching his breath. One arm was hanging outside the edge of the tub; it was uninjured, and limp fingers were still grasping the hilt of a wickedly-sharp dagger, but the other arm, under the water, was the source of its pinkish tint. He had scored his forearm deeply from wrist to elbow, and as she watched, a steady ribbon of red seeped from the wound to stain the water around the wound a darker shade.

"What happened tonight, Kira-kun?" she asked him as she knelt by the tub, heedless of the puddles that immediately drenched her knees.

"Nothing different from the usual," he said wearily, his voice listless. He turned his face away and wept, shudders wracking his body. "I can't stop going over the past. Their voices keep ringing in my head, over and over. I keep searching for the clues I missed, any hint that could have revealed what they were doing. Something I could have done to prevent it all!"

Orihime placed a hand on his damp shoulder, and he whipped his head back around to stare at her. His features were contorted with fear. "Worst of all, I don't know how to prevent it from happening again!"

"Happening  _again_? Kira-kun, it's over. Aizen-sama was defeated and imprisoned. He's never getting out."

"We don't know that!" he whispered raggedly. "What he did to the Vaizards... my captain is one of them... what if Aizen's corruption can't ever be completely driven out? What if they're to wait until the right moment, and- and then  _strike_?"

Orihime sucked in a breath. "Kira-kun," she began haltingly, "I know the Vaizards rather well, and they  _hate_ Aizen-sama. None of them would help him; I'm sure they'd all kill him if they had a chance."

"I don't mean they'd do it consciously," he moaned, shuddering. "Never on purpose. I know my captain is a good man. But... but they could have been programmed. Like Hinamori. Like  _me_. Helpless to resist. All the suffering, and fighting, and death!" His voice rose as he became agitated. "Even you! They kidnapped and tortured and raped you, and because I didn't see anything, I couldn't stop them! I don't know how you can stand to even look at me!"

Byakuya felt his body jerk in surprise at Kira's words- Aizen and Ichimaru and Tousen, their Espada and Arrancar- they had tortured Orihime? Had  _raped_ her? Beside him, Rose's face was ashen.

Orihime blinked, feeling her chest constrict in shock.  _How did he know? Who had told?_ No, no, this was not the time for her to worry about that. This time was to help Kira. Later, once this was over, she could fall to pieces. At the moment, she had work to do.

Surreptitiously, she directed her healing fairies to come out and begin healing Kira. The gash in his arm, if left untended, would soon kill him. It was a good thing he hadn't managed to get the other arm, or she'd be resurrecting him instead of merely putting the pieces of his mind back together. While she was at it, she repaired the damage to his liver that all that drinking had caused.

She began to stroke his wet hair. "Kira-kun," she began, "I can look at you because  _you_ are a good man, too, who fought hard to put things right, once you knew how they had betrayed us." When he lifted an incredulous face to her, she smiled. "Let me explain how?"

Slowly he nodded.

"Firstly, Kira-kun, Aizen-sama, Ichimaru-sama, and Tousen-sama- they were masters at deception. They set up their plan over a century before putting it into motion. They went to incredible lengths to trick everyone.  _Not_ just you, Kira-kun. They tricked  _everyone_ , even the people closest to them. Hinamori-san, Hisagi-san, Komamura-taichou... none of them saw it, either. Are you somehow so much more perceptive than they are? Do you somehow have the ability to resist Aizen-sama's hypnosis when the rest of the Gotei 13- even the captains, even Yamamoto-soutaichou himself- can't?"

Kira stared at her, his face slack with shock and a desperate, pathetic hope.

"And secondly... Kira-kun, this happened so  _long_ ago. Ten years! Not so long to a shinigami, I suppose, but I was alive until recently, and to me, ten years is a long time!" Her smile this time was closer to her usual beam-of-sunshine style. "After enough time, any mistake can be forgiven, don't you think? Forgiveness and compassion are important things we all need to live. For other people, but for ourselves, too. We forget that we're people too, and deserve the same mercy as everyone else."

She studied his face a long moment. "As for the Vaizards... I think you're underestimating them. They are victims of Aizen-sama just like the rest of us. I think most of them have come to terms with what happened to them. If any of them haven't, I hope they come to talk with me, so I can help them. They've gotten a resolution, what we in the living world like to call closure, with Aizen-sama's defeat. They're trying to rebuild their lives like everyone else.

"If it makes you feel better to keep a close eye on them, you can do that, but... I think you'll be ruining a chance to have a good relationship with them. And ruining your own chance to leave the fear and mistrust behind you for good. So have some faith in your captain, Kira-kun! He's a nice guy!"

"How can you still trust, after what's been done to you?" he asked after a bleak moment's pause. "How do you stop seeing shadows around every corner?"

"I got tired of it," Orihime replied slowly. "It was exhausting. I just couldn't keep it up. And I guess believing in the good in people over the bad- that helps, too. I'm an optimist, which does get me into trouble, but for the most part I do okay, that way." She poked playfully at his forehead. "So cheer up, Kira-kun, okay? Life is nowhere near as awful as you think it is, and I'll make you believe it with me even if I have to drag you, kicking and screaming."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the rim of the tub. "It might take exactly that," he muttered. "I hope you're up to it."

She pumped her fist into the air, even though he couldn't see it. "I'm definitely up for it! Red bean paste power!"

Kira popped one bright blue, slightly bloodshot, eye open to peer at her. "Red bean paste has power?"

"Un!" She nodded vigorously. "And wasabi, too! There's nothing they can't improve." She leant over him to pull his injured arm out of the water, studying the whole, unblemished length of his forearm. "How are you feeling? You should have all your blood back, so you should be feeling a little perkier now. Let's get you out of this tub, then you can go to sleep. I promise you'll feel better in the morning."

He didn't say yes, but he also didn't say no, so Orihime took that as assent and pulled the plug to let the pink water drain away. When she was done, and the tub was empty but for his pale, shrinking form, she patted his arm.

"Okay, Kira-kun, time to get out! We'll dry you off and get you into bed."

"I've got this," said Rose, coming to her side and helping her stand. She stepped back, watching as he hoisted Kira from the tub and wrapping his shivering, wet body in a yukata.

"Thank you, Orihime-san," Kira said faintly once he'd been bundled into his futon with a thick quilt over him. "I mean it, thank you. You got here just before I was going to- going to finish it."

"I know, Kira-san," she said softly, kneeling by his futon, and passed her hand over his damp hair, smoothing it. "We'll get you through this together, I promise."

She stayed there, stroking his hair, until a soft snore rose from him. She looked up at the two watching captains, and tried to rise. "Oops," she whispered when she staggered, "I think my legs are asleep. And these shoes aren't helping." She flashed an bashful grin at him and Rose. "So embarrassing! Stupid numb legs."

Byakuya helped her up, and assisted her from Kira's quarters while noticing that, while the shoes were indeed impractical, they did make Orihime's stupid numb legs look very long and slender and shapely. Then he banished that mental note as being thoroughly inappropriate for both the setting and the inspiration.

Rose slid the door shut behind them, and offered a returning smile that was shaky but grateful. "I'm so glad you came tonight, Inoue-sensei," he said. "I knew he was troubled, but didn't realize how deeply it went."

"I'll keep working on it with him. As long as he doesn't give up, he'll be fine, eventually. I'm glad you thought to get me." She paused, feeling awkward and unsure, but forged ahead. "Um, not too many people know the details of my time in Hueco Mundo, so don't tell anyone, okay? I don't even know how Kira-kun was aware of it."

"No one will hear of it. Ever," said Byakuya for both of them, and the look he shot at Rose foretold of significant pain if the other man did not comply. Rose quickly nodded.

With a final nod to Rose, Byakuya put an arm around Orihime's waist and flash-stepped them from Third Division. She gripped his wrist so tightly that he could feel his bones shift. He didn't say a word about it, as his mind was in turmoil.

He was angry and confused, outraged and frustrated. He wanted to  _do_ something, to avenge Orihime's pain, to punish those who had caused it, but there was nothing to do. All the parties involved, Aizen and Ichimaru and Tousen and the majority of the Espada, were dead or, in Aizen's case, imprisoned for 20,000 years. He could only stand there and wish impotently for an opportunity that would never arise.

A tide of rage and loathing erupted in him once more at the thought of what had been inflicted on her. She was so fragile in body (though in spirit, he was coming to learn that she was a veritable lion). It went against the fabric of his soul to abuse someone so vulnerable. The very point of strength was to use it to protect the weak. Employing it to harm another in one's power was a perversion. And to someone who lived only to make others happy, like Orihime? It was an abomination.

How could she look past it, and still love? For all that he'd been wounded in battle, he'd never been made helpless, at the mercy of another's whims. He'd never endured ongoing, intentional suffering. The most he'd suffered was a broken heart in the wake of Hisana's death, and he'd reacted by closing it off to spare himself further pain, and now Byakuya felt shame at his own cowardice.

He thought he'd done it for the sake of dignity and pride, but as he flash-stepped through Seireitei toward his family's manor, he saw it for what it was: fear. It took far more courage to crack open one's chest and risk agony than it did to hide one's heart behind a steel door.

When they arrived home, Rukia and Renji were there, sitting in the lounge with the shouji walls open to the night air. Both stood when Byakuya alighted on the veranda with Orihime clasped to his side.

"Are you alright?" Rukia asked quietly.

"I'm fine, Rukia-chan," Orihime herself said as Byakuya set her on her feet, but her face was wan. "Just sad. And still a bit drunk. It's a strange combination."

"And your patient?" inquired Renji. "It was Kira, wasn't it? Will he be okay?"

"I think he'll be fine, eventually," she said. "Please remember to take care of him."

"We will. We all will," Renji promised. With a bow, he took his leave.

"I'll help you to bed," Rukia offered, but Orihime shook her head.

"I'd actually like to take a little walk before I go to bed, Rukia-chan, but thank you," she said, and headed off toward the river. Byakuya and Rukia watched her go.

"I guess I'll just... go to bed," Rukia muttered, looking worried. She gave a slight bow to Byakuya. "Goodnight, Nii-sama."

"Goodnight, Rukia," he replied, his gaze never leaving Orihime, watching as she wobbled down the path heading to the little bridge.

The moon was nearly full that night, and its light flooded the lawn between the house and the river. Orihime had reached the bridge but stopped, and seemed to be contorting herself in an attempt to reach her feet. It appeared that she was trying to remove the high-heeled shoes. Byakuya took a single flash-step and reached her in a second.

"Ah," she said, looking up at him from where she was trying to balance against the bridge railing with one hand while the other attempted to pry free the shoe's ankle strap. "The bridge is very steep. If I try to walk on it in these things, I'll break something, I just know it."

Byakuya gave the issue no thought, no thought at all; he knelt at Orihime's feet and wrapped his hand around her ankle. She froze, and blinked down at him with huge, surprised eyes.

"Byakuya-sama," she murmured. There was something surprised-but-pleased in her tone, and Byakuya found he liked it quite a bit.

"Hold on to the railing," he commanded gently, and she straightened, placing her hands behind her on the bridge rail.

Byakuya lifted her foot to rest on his thigh, enjoying the flex of her muscles as she redistributed her weight to her other leg. Her ankle was tiny; he could almost circle it with his fingers. The buckle was a fussy affair; no wonder she couldn't undo it without help, especially tipsy and in the dark. He made short work of it, then eased her foot from the shoe and let her place it on the ground.

"Byakuya-sama," Orihime whispered again. He looked up to find her staring down at him, lips parted and breath coming faster. The moonlight silvered her hair and features, gliding lovingly down the contours of her face and glimmering in her wide eyes. Her voice had pitched lower, and there was a note of wonderment, almost of discovery, to it. He found he liked that even more, and curled his hand around the back of her other calf to bring her still-shod foot to his other knee.

Something had changed abruptly in him, in the way he thought of Orihime. She had gone from being Rukia's slight nuisance of a friend to something of a friend of his own, and now his awareness of her as a woman shivered between them in a way he'd never expected could be possible. He ran his hand from her calf down to cup the back of her ankle, holding her foot steady, as his other hand worked to unbuckle the strap.

And his eyes never left hers, watching carefully for every nuance of change. He saw when her eyelids lowered to half-mast, when her lashes flickered in pleasure at his touch.

"Byakuya-sama," she said for the third time. There was a rasp to her voice that had him feeling primitive and reckless, as if any moment he might fling her onto the grass and rut wildly with her.

He wanted to slide his hands along her legs, to ruck her skirt up as he went, bunching it at her waist before peeling down her panties. He wanted to smooth his palms over the roundness of her thighs, then to reach in with his thumbs to spread her open to the cooling night air. He wanted to press his face against her, to lick deep into her and taste her, to feel her shimmy her hips and buck back at him for more, more. And something, something told him she would let him.

He removed the shoe and relinquished her foot; slowly, almost reluctantly, she drew it back. He got to his feet and handed her the shoes, letting them dangle by the straps until she took them from him. She stared stupidly at them for a long moment, as if confused by them.

"Those things will be the death of you," he said lightly, and flash-stepped away.


	12. Chapter 12

Orihime barely slept at all, the night before her first day in the South Rukongai free clinic, and was consequently bleary-eyed at breakfast, staring dully into her bowl of miso soup and needing Rukia to repeat everything three times until the other girl just gave up on talking to her.

The hour of shunpou it took to travel from the Kuchiki estate to the clinic was much the same; Orihime spent it lost in thought and subsequently continually having to correct her route and narrowly avoid splatting herself on some poor bugger's rooftop.

She had a lot to think about, after all: she had to alter her treatment plan for him, now that he was provably suicidal. And she was wondering who'd spilled the beans on the less-than-fun hospitality she'd "enjoyed" in Hueco Mundo, and hoping the eavesdropping captains Kuchiki and Otourobashi hadn't heard much, but if they had, they'd keep their traps shut about it.

It was like pulling teeth, getting Byakuya to talk anyway, so she doubted he'd go blabbing it about Seireitei. And Rose didn't seem the type to gossip, either, so she was going to just have to hope neither of them would mention it ever again. Bleh. How was she supposed to forget the past when other people kept bringing it up?

And speaking of Byakuya... Orihime was not ashamed to admit to herself that she was freaking out, just the tiniest bit, about his odd behavior from that night. She was willing to chalk up a goodly portion of the weirdness to her tipsiness (and don't think she had not already made a solemn vow to cut back on the sake, because boy howdy,  _had_ she: two saucers was her limit now, sipped  _not_ shotgunned, no matter how much stupid Ikkaku teased and goaded her to have more) but  _wow,_ Byakuya had been sexy enough to give her a nosebleed that night.

It might have been plenty, the way he'd stared up at her with those heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, and it would definitely have been plenty just to feel his fingertips at her ankles (who knew the ankles could be such sensitive erogenous zones!), but the feel of those slender fingers and warm palms sliding up her legs and holding her ankles had had Orihime very hard-pressed to keep from moaning and, perhaps, begging him to take her.

There had just been something about how he'd looked at her, like there was an ocean of words he wasn't saying. Orihime had been learning how to read Byakuya's silences for weeks now, and she was pretty sure that he was thinking quite a lot of dirty, naughty, sure-to-be-wonderful things. Which was fine, because she'd been entertaining a few of those herself.

And now she didn't know how to act around Byakuya, and was afraid of things becoming weird between them and having him be repulsed by her acting gawky and strange. Well,  _more_ strange. He'd tolerated a lot of strangeness from her, but she knew he'd have a limit, and she wasn't eager to experience the humiliation of having him hit that limit and break off their fragile friendship.

It was probably all in her head, because didn't she have a proven track record of unrequited attraction?  _Oh, Orihime, you complete dummy,_ she told herself sadly,  _that way lies heartache._  She made another vow, right then, to a) put any thoughts of attraction behind her, no matter how sexy Byakuya was, and b) act completely regular to him, just like she was with Uryuu and Sado and Renji and Toushirou.

Well, maybe not Toushirou, because she did tend to cuddle him a bit, and she was fairly certain that should she attempt to cuddle Byakuya, he would assault her in retaliation.

But yes! She would act neutral and friendly and happy with him, like she was with all her men friends, and once she knew where she was headed with her life (unlife? death? sometimes she felt like a zombie, and wouldn't that be fun? though brains were not at all tasty without a liberal application of butter and jam, she'd found) she'd move out of the estate and into her own place and then not have to see him for breakfast and dinner.

And Orihime would do without the evening walks around the estate's grounds, and then relaxing together afterwards in the cozy sitting room, even though it had become her favorite part of the day. She'd just find something else to be her favorite part of the day, that was all.

"Fight-o!" she exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air to generate some enthusiasm since she felt not-at-all inspired by any of this. The various peasants on the street below her glanced up at the noise- it wasn't everyday they saw a woman flash-stepping overhead- but she forged on. Enough stewing over that stuff; today was a new leaf turning over in the book of her life!

She was so happy that Isane had asked her to participate. Not only would she be helping those too poor to afford doctors on their own, but this would be a wonderful opportunity for her to practice kidou healing. She'd been taught to do it years earlier by Unohana-taichou but never really used that much, as well as fine-tune her usage of her own time-reversal type of healing. While she knew she could heal several people at once, would she be able to heal larger numbers of patients at the same time? If so, how many?

And did she need to focus on who she was healing, or could she just send the fairies out to do their thing and trust them to get the job done without her? Because that way, she could use kidou to heal while the fairies healed other people, healing a greater number more rapidly. In an emergency or wartime situation, that could make a significant difference...

Thus were Orihime's thoughts as she flash-stepped out to the Fiftieth District, where Isane was meeting her for her first day. To her delight, Hanatarou was there as well, and they flung themselves at each other for an exuberant hug.

"Orihime-chan, I'm so glad you're helping us!" Hanatarou exclaimed with a big smile. "I was so worried about what would happen to the people in South Rukongai if there were no one to take Kazumi-san's place."

"I'm happy to help!" Orihime replied, hands on hips as she surveyed the shabby street on which the clinic was located. It was not paved, and every wheel and foot that passed over it raised a cloud of dust. She gave a little cough and wondered if she would need a mask to get through the day without hacking and wheezing.

The clinic itself was nothing more than an empty store, not in the best shape of its existence, outside of which Isane had placed a sandwich board announcing low-cost and free healing.

"I put 'low-cost' because some of the patients are very proud and won't take charity," Isane explained. "And a lot of them bring in goods to trade for healing, because money isn't used too much out past the Forty-Ninth District."

Sometimes you'll get a live chicken or piglet," said Hanatarou with a laugh as he started sweeping the dirty floor. "I just try to hand those off to a hungry-looking family, because there's nowhere to keep them in the barracks at the Fourth."

"And I doubt Kuchiki-taichou would let you keep them on his estate!" added Isane, blushing a bit at the thought of the handsome, remote captain.

"That's for sure," Orihime agreed, repressing a grin as she tried to imagine Byakuya's reaction to her bringing a piglet home. It would probably be worth the hassle of having to tote the piglet back to a deserving family afterwards, just to see what he would do and say.

Just before they opened for "business", Isane took Orihime aside for a few quiet words. "I try not to be alone with any of the male patients," she said in a low voice. "The majority of the healing can be done in the main room with everyone watching. If a man has an illness that needs to be tended in private, tell him you will either need another woman present with you, or you will have a male healer come back in a few days to help him. That tends to weed out the ones who just want to try something with you."

Orihime's eyebrows shot up. "Does that happen often?"

"At least once a day," Isane replied with a grimace. "But if it's a man with a genuine problem, they won't be phased by having another woman present for the examination, or having a male healer come back later." She gave Orihime a quick grin. "And you're hardly defenseless yourself, so you'll do fine."

Hanatarou had finished sweeping and was flinging open the door to their first patients.

"Here they come!" announced Isane, grinning at Orihime. "Hope you're ready!"

Orihime rolled up her sleeves. "As I'll ever be!" She offered a smile at the first patient, an elderly lady with a pronounced curve to her back. "Welcome, please come over here and sit down..."

* * *

Orihime was very excited at the end of her first day healing. Her commute home was nowhere near as plagued by worrisome thoughts as her travel that morning had been; now, she was too happy at how many people she had helped, and tired, to think about much of anything.

She was, admittedly, not the best of company that evening; she barely said a word through dinner, and her walk around the pond with the Kuchiki siblings and Renji consisted of Rukia and Renji arguing over some movie they'd seen years ago in the living world while Byakuya kept up his usual flow of conversation (that is to say, none at all) and Orihime tried to hide her many yawns and thought longingly of her futon. Despite her fatigue, though, she couldn't wait to go back again and hoped Isane would let her know the next date to do it.

She excused herself to bed as soon as they returned to the house from the walk, and forced herself to spend a half-hour working on the Seaweed Ambassador plushie she was making for Byakuya before allowing herself to finally conk out. The next morning, she slept in a bit and felt much better for it.

It was very surprising, at breakfast, to learn that Rukia was not going to work at the Thirteenth Division that day.

"Every so often, I have to meet with the women of the clan," Rukia explained, her voice carefully neutral even as she chanced a look at her brother from across the table. "As Nii-sama is not married, I act as a sort of proxy in place of his wife, so on days like these, the ladies of Kuchiki keep me informed of things they feel I should be aware of, and try to convince me to allow them to arrange a marriage for me."

Orihime blinked. "But..." she began, then stopped, biting her lip to keep from blurting out something inappropriate about Renji. "...oh," she finished lamely. "You don't... I mean, you  _wouldn't_..."

" _No_ ," Rukia answered firmly. "I would never have an arranged marriage." She bowed in apology to Byakuya. "I'm sorry, Nii-sama, but not even to advance the family or strengthen your claim as head of the clan would I marry a stranger."

He inclined his head in response, a regal gesture from over the letter he was reading. "I married for love; I can hardly expect you to do otherwise."

" _Aw_ ," cooed Orihime, stopping abruptly when he shot her a repressive look from behind the letter. She shot Rukia a cheeky grin, and Rukia returned it.

"If you want, you can sit in on the meeting," Rukia offered. "It's... it's not very fun, I won't lie to you, but maybe if you're there it will... suck less?" She heaved a sigh. "It's really very boring, and the women are very snobby and rude in a strangely polite way. Half the time, I don't know I'm being insulted until hours later."

Orihime thought that sounded interesting, if not precisely a barrel of laughs. "I'd like to see it at least once, so, yes! I will come with you." She plucked at her blouse and skirt from the living world. "But you'll have to lend me some kimonos."

Rukia laughed. "No worries there, I have enough to outfit the entire Gotei, thanks to Nii-sama." She beamed an adoring smile at him; he flicked an amused glance over the letter at her.

"Green," he murmured.

"Eh?" Rukia asked, her mouth full of rice, before swallowing hastily, wiping her mouth with her napkin, and starting over. "Apologies, Nii-sama, but what about green?"

"You have a set of kimonos in various shades of green. I recommend you lend them to Orihime-san," he clarified, putting aside the letter and standing to leave for the day. "Until this evening."

After he was gone, and they'd finished eating, Rukia had her maid fetch the green kimonos. It took both her and the maid to strap Orihime into the elaborate, multi-layered set, but it was worth it- though heavy, it was exquisite, and Orihime felt like a princess as she waddled along in it to Rukia's room, where the maid would assist her in donning her own kimonos, these in shades of blue ranging from sky to cobalt to cerulean.

Then their hair was arranged, and their faces powdered, and their cheeks and lips lightly rouged. Once they were completely accoutred, they stood and wobbled across the estate to the formal meeting chamber. The charms dangling from Orihime's hair chimed gently with each step, and she was struck for a moment how surreal it all felt. She was just a normal modern girl, but here she was making her way through a thousand-year-old mansion in traditional garb to meet with a room full of noblewomen. It didn't seem like it could, or even should, be happening.

They entered the room. It was very large, with a high beamed ceiling, and a dais on the far side. About a dozen women, just as formally clothed as Orihime and Rukia, sat within- half on each side facing the center, so they formed a sort of aisle down the center toward the dais. It was down this aisle that Rukia walked; not knowing what else to do, Orihime followed her. As they promenaded, the women bowed very low over their crossed hands, until their foreheads almost touched the pristine tatami floor.

"Sit here, Orihime-chan," Rukia murmured, indicating a spot to her side before kneeling. Orihime, very grateful for the direction, sank to her own knees with alacrity.

"Rukia-sama has been so kind as to honor us by including her esteemed guest in our discussion," murmured one of the ladies. Orihime noticed that they were all rather elderly, and the one who had spoken seemed the most ancient of the bunch, with pure white hair and a faceful of distinguished wrinkles. For all that she'd spoken with exquisite courtesy and an utterly neutral tone, however, Orihime got the feeling the woman was anything but honored by the presence of Rukia's supposedly esteemed guest.

But Rukia was nothing if not loyal. "Yes," she said clearly, "Inoue-dono is a very important friend, as well as a powerful shinigami in her own right. We are all honored that she has deigned to reside here with us." She flicked an amused glance at her friend, mischief sparkling in her big blue eyes.

"Of course," agreed the old woman, no hint of annoyance on her face but somehow managing to convey it all the same.

Thus commenced the most boring, yet confusing, hour of Orihime's life. These women spoke the most formal, convoluted, remote version of acutely polite speech she'd ever heard, the conversation taking place almost entirely in ancient, Edo-era Japanese. She supposed it must be a lot like modern English-speaking people trying to comprehend the odd pronunciations and unusual wordings used in the works of Shakespeare and Chaucer.

"Byakuya-ue will have to make the final approval, of course, but this one foresees no difficulties with permitting the marriage of our precious cousin to a scion of the house of Kyouraku," the elderly lady, whose name was O-jun Orihime had learned, said after a very long period of yapping about various dull issues. Orihime was starting to believe her knee joints had fused and she'd never be able to stand or walk again.

"Nii-sama has been wanting a connection between the families for decades, no matter his personal opinion of Kyouraku-taichou," stated Rukia with a sliver of a grin. "This one anticipates his agreement as well."

There was a pause. "These ones have no further issues to bring before Rukia-sama," O-jun said. As one, the other ten or so women bowed formally again, then stood and backed from the huge room, eyes downcast. Orihime wondered how they managed it without falling over.

O-jun herself, however, remained kneeling even after it was just the three of them left. "Would Rukia-sama be so good as to spare a moment for this unworthy one?" asked the elderly woman, with an exquisite bow over her crossed hands.

"Of course this one would be honored to grant O-jun's request," Rukia answered smoothly, bowing from her neck in a most autocratic fashion, Orihime felt.

"Rukia-sama's kindness honors us all," said O-jun as she straightened with a grace that belied her age.

Orihime was starting to feel suffocated by the extreme politeness, and made to excuse herself so as to give them some privacy.

"If this one might be so rude as to beg Inoue-dono's indulgence, it is this one's belief that Inoue-dono might benefit from this discussion as well," O-jun said, her voice soft and utterly lacking in inflection; however, Orihime got the distinct impression it was basically an order. She gulped and remained kneeling.

"Um... this one is honored to be included in O-jun's conversation with Rukia-sama," Orihime improvised, feeling like an idiot. It seemed to satisfy O-jun, however, for the old woman nodded and turned back to Rukia.

"Rukia-sama is aware that this one, as well as the other clan elders, are bold enough to have the highest of expectations for Byakuya-ue," stated O-jun.

"As is only fitting for one of Nii-sama's lineage and accomplishments," replied Rukia immediately. "Anything less exalted would be the gravest of insults."

"Exactly so," agreed O-jun. "And yet not once but twice this century alone, Byakuya-ue has presented the family with choices that many feel have compromised the impeccable history of the clan's lineage."

"Indeed," said Rukia slowly. Orihime was still clueless as to the point of this interaction, but saw Rukia was beginning to understand... something.

"The confidence of the clan elders has been somewhat shaken by these choices," O-jun continued. "They worry that the same... puzzling... logic that informed Byakuya-ue's decisions could lead Byakuya-ue to make other decisions of flawed intent, decisions that could jeopardize the integrity of the Kuchiki clan that has lasted these many millennia. And as Rukia-sama is aware that that integrity is of utmost priority, the elders would have no choice but to remove the position of clan head to a Kuchiki for whom such power and symbolism would be more appropriate."

Orihime scarcely managed to stifle her gasp of surprise when she realized what O-jun was saying: the clan elders were suspicious of Byakuya's fitness to head the family, since he'd made the fatal errors of marrying Hisana and then adopting Rukia. She had an idea that he'd had to fight like hell to push both of those through, since she doubted the elders would have welcomed either commoner into their esteemed family.

And now they were warning Rukia that Byakuya was on his last chance with them- one more infraction, and they would strip him of his status as clan head. This was serious; this was shocking. But why were they telling  _Rukia_? Why not tell Byakuya himself?

Rukia was silent so long after O-jun's pronouncement that Orihime began to wonder if she would answer at all. "This one is sure that O-jun has a specific reason for presenting such a concern to her instead of to Nii-sama himself," she said at last. Ah, so Rukia didn't get it, either. Orihime felt a little less stupid.

"This unworthy one holds Byakuya-ue in highest regard, and would hope to spare him any unpleasantness," O-jun replied easily. "This one would hope to solve any problems before they might be presented, and thus continue to serve Byakuya-ue with utmost efficiency and without any incidents that might impact the clan's honor."

So they were trying to prevent something, nip it in the bud, before it even had to get to Byakuya. Hm. But what?

"O-jun surely has a specific scenario in mind that she would like to share with this unworthy one," prompted Rukia. There was an edge to her voice; Orihime felt sure that her friend was in danger of reaching the end of her patience.

"The elders have become aware of an affection that Rukia-sama holds for one of the members of the Gotei 13," said O-jun. "Despite this lieutenant's distinguished service to the Gotei 13, and his position as protégé to Byakuya-ue, they feel it a problematic match, and thus it cannot be recognized."

Orihime's eyes bugged out; was O-jun saying that the Kuchikis would never permit Rukia to be with Renji? Rukia just threaded her fingers together in her lap until her knuckles were white, and waited for O-jun to continue.

"However, due to Byakuya-ue's connection to this esteemed lieutenant, and his customary indulgence of Rukia-sama's wishes, the elders feel he would champion such a match instead of of refuse it. This would bring him into another conflict with the elders."

Ah, there it was: they were afraid that Byakuya would fight them to allow Rukia to be with Renji, and if he did, they would remove him from his position as head of the family. Which was a rotten thing to do, because supporting Rukia's love for Renji- and his for her, which shone as brightly as the sun itself- would be the best, most honorable and decent thing in the world. Orihime had little doubt that Byakuya would support them with all his considerable might. The fact that this nasty old woman and her equally nasty fellow elders thought it was a bad move and wanted to block it made Orihime very upset.

"This one dares to venture, however, that the possibility for an alternative- one that would satisfy Rukia-sama, her esteemed lieutenant, and the clan- exists." O-jun was looking pretty pleased with herself; Orihime had an idea that this alternative might satisfy the family but probably no one else.

Rukia lifted her gaze from where she'd been staring at her clasped hands and fixed them coldly on O-jun. "This one is eager to hear of such a... superlative option," she snapped.

O-jun's faded eyes took on a smug glint, as if she'd just been waiting for Rukia's composure to fail her. "The elders feel that if Rukia-sama were to leave the clan, and be Kuchiki no more, then any bonds she chose to forge with her esteemed lieutenant- or anyone else, for that matter- would be irrelevant to the Kuchiki family."

Orihime was not alone in her gasp this time- Rukia drew in an involuntary breath of surprise as well. "Kuchiki no more?" she whispered.

Being a Kuchiki was more trouble than it was worth, it seemed to Orihime. Once you got past the gorgeous estate and nigh-unimaginable riches, noblility didn't seem like it was any great shakes. It did seem to mean something profound to Rukia, however. Her huge blue eyes were filling with tears, and she was blinking furiously to keep them under control.

"O-jun has certainly given Rukia-sama some valuable information, which she will want to think about," Orihime said quickly. "May this unworthy one humbly request that Rukia-sama now be given time to consider it?"

O-jun bowed deeply, then rose to her feet in a graceful movement. "This one thanks Rukia-sama and Inoue-dono for their gracious acceptance of this unworthy one's conversation." She backed away to the edge of the room, turned and walked out.

"Rukia-chan-" Orihime began once they were alone, but the other girl cut her off with a slight motion of her hand.

"Not here," Rukia muttered, her face stiff. "Everyone is watching. We must sit here for a while longer, so they don't suspect we are running inside to lick our wounds."

"Wounds? Was this a battle?" Orihime asked, feeling dazed by the viciously barbed insults and threats garbed in such vague and excruciatingly polite speech. She felt more exhausted and apprehensive after than than she had after most of her fights against Hollows and Arrancar.

"Of course it was," replied Rukia. She was staring off toward a distant corner of the room, and on her face was an expression of the most heartbreaking distress.

"Do you know why they chose now to make their move?" Orihime asked.

"I am so stupid." A faint smile curved Rukia's lips, and her face took on a dreamy cast. "I should have known that, even at night, they would have eyes everywhere." At Orihime frown of confusion, she continued, "When we walk after dinner, and Renji and I go off alone... we don't just argue when we're by ourselves in the dark."

"Oh, Rukia-chan," Orihime said softly. They had finally found their way to each other, after so much time and distance and heartache. She bit down on her lip to keep her composure, because she wanted nothing more than to cry a few happy tears for her friends. "That's wonderful. I'm so glad."

"I was, too, until just now." Rukia began blinking again, trying to control the tears that threatened once more. "These past ten years since Nii-sama has begun treating me like a true sister... they've been the best years of my life. I never dreamed I'd have such a thing... that I'd have a family, even if it's just one person. I never realized how much I wanted it. And now, if I want to be with Renji, I have to give it up."

She sniffled, somehow managing to make even that look elegant. "How am I supposed to give my brother up?'

"Rukia-chan, has it been long enough yet? Can we leave this room now?" Orihime was at the end of her rope.

"Yes, I think so..." Rukia was cut off when Orihime grabbed her wrist and hauled her to her feet, then dragged her from the room and through the house to her own bedroom. Once in there, she released Rukia, put her face in her hands, and began to bawl.

"Oh, Orihime-chan, don't..." Rukia touched her friend's heaving shoulder. "Don't because if you do, I will too..."

But Orihime didn't stop, and Rukia started to cry, too. They sobbed until they were exhausted, their eyes were swollen, and their heads were pounding, and then they collapsed on Orihime's futon, Rukia face down, her head buried in the gorgeously soft quilt, while Orihime stared blindly up at the ceiling.

"It's not that being a Kuchiki is so wonderful," Rukia said into the quilt, her voice muffled. "I don't care about money, or power, or this stupid estate. I want to be with Renji. I'm finally starting to feel like I've earned it, the right to be with him."

"Rukia-chan!" Orihime sat up quickly, shocked to hear this from her usually assertive, confident friend. "Of course you have!"

"Never mind that part." Rukia rolled to her back and offered a limp smile to her friend. "The main issue is that... Nii-sama has only just started acting like I'm a precious sister to him. When he was finally able to tell me about Hisana-nee-san, and why he adopted me, and was able to get out from under the weight of his promises... I'm really his sister. He's really my brother. I  _love_ him. And I don't want to lose him, not just yet."

She propped herself up on her elbows "I want to keep him as my brother a little while longer... one day, when I'm stronger and more ready to give him up, I'll leave the Kuchiki family and go to Renji. But just not yet, okay, Orihime? Just not yet."

Orihime burst into tears once more; she couldn't help it. Rukia sat up, put her arms around Orihime, and began crying again as well.

Then the shoji door was thrown open with a bang.

"What's wrong?" demanded Renji. Behind him, Byakuya stood silently in the hallway. "Your reiatsu is all over the place. Taichou and I could feel it from Sixth Division." Renji noticed that the girls were upset, and his voice gentled. "Ah, Rukia, Orihime-chan, what's wrong?" He knelt beside the futon and reached out a huge hand to cup Rukia's dark head. "Tell me, so I can fix it."

Rukia leaned into his caress and closed her eyes. "Some things you can't fix," she murmured. "But thanks."

"You sure?" Renji lowered his bright head until his forehead rested against hers. "I'll do anything to make you feel better. You know that."

"I know that." Rukia opened her eyes, gazing up into his face with such love that Orihime felt a lump form in her throat. She looked past them to where Byakuya hovered in the doorway, watching, and knew he was seeing the same thing she was. Hurriedly, she stood and went to him.

"Can we give them a moment alone?" she asked, and when he nodded, slipped past him into the hallway, leaving him to slide shut the door.

She made her way out toward the lawn, aiming across it toward the river. It wasn't until she got there that she realized she was standing at the foot of the little red bridge where Byakuya had sexily removed her shoes, and that he'd followed her there.  _Oopsie_.

"You will tell me the cause of that outburst," he commanded softly. His eyes were intent upon her face, and she realized that, having been crying up a storm, she probably was a fright of swollen eyes and red nose. Possibly there was some snot smeared somewhere.

She stared up at him, horribly conflicted. Part of her wanted to confide in Byakuya, feeling complete trust that somehow, he'd be able to fix everything and Rukia would be able to marry Renji and he himself could remain principal of the house of Kuchiki.

But another part of her was stricken with terror at the consequences warned of by O-jun; heading his family, and maintaining its dignity and honor as an extension of his own, was the most important aspect of his life. It defined him, gave him purpose, drove most of his choices and decisions. Removing it would most likely destroy him from shame, and Orihime knew she could never live with herself if she was the reason it happened.

"I can't tell you," Orihime whispered miserably. She scrubbed at one damp eye with a fist. "I wish I could, and I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Is my sister's safety in jeopardy?" he persisted.

"No, no, no," Orihime rushed to say, waving her hands back and forth for emphasis.

"Is yours?"

Aw, he cared. "No, it was nothing dangerous or anything like that. Mostly just, uh, emotional girl stuff."

She chanced a glance up through her tear-wet lashes, and found him staring down at her, a hint of irritation in the tenseness around his mouth, but if anyone understood the concept of obligation, duty, and loyalty, it was he.

He said nothing, just nodded shortly. "You will inform me if the situation deteriorates," he stated, and this time, there was steel in it; he would not be so accepting if it got worse. He was such a good, protective older brother. Orihime gave a little squee to herself over it.

"Okay," she said, because if it ever came to pass where Rukia decided to marry Renji, she'd leave the family and Byakuya would be entirely aware of it, so Orihime wouldn't have any secret to keep at that point. She was totally not lying to him by agreeing. Totally.

She turned, hitched her copious kimono skirts up, and wobbled up the bridge's steep incline to its apex. "Ugh," she said, with feeling, and leaned heavily against the railing to stare down into the rushing water below. "Why does life always have to be so complicated?"

Byakuya halted at her side, having followed her onto the bridge. "Complication is a by-product of civilization. You would prefer we were still primitives living in caves?" he inquired, his concern of before shifting into a sort of wary amusement.

Orihime grimaced. "I don't think you have to take it quite that far," she replied. Only Byakuya would take her statement and turn it into the impetus for a philosophical discussion. Crazy man. She was glad for the distraction from the unhappy thoughts, however, and launched happily in a debate of the subject.

It was only much later when Orihime was in bed, about to fall asleep, that she realized that he'd done it on purpose to get her mind off her miseries.  _Crazy man_ , she thought, and smiled into the darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

Orihime awoke one day with a knowledge that was somehow thrilling and awful at the same time.

Orihime knew that she was falling for Byakuya; falling hard, in fact, so hard that it was going to hurt like hell when the inevitable happened. The inevitable, of course, being the horrible and undeniable fact that it was impossible for them to be together. She could try to pretend for a while that it  _was_ possible, could indulge herself in dreams of kisses and lovemaking, but ultimately, in the end, there was too much at stake for each of them. For him, the risk was the loss of his position as head and leader of his family clan.

For her, the risk was to lose her heart completely and have to try to survive without it. The pangs of longing she felt when he said something funny, or interesting, or clever... the angle of his cheek when they walked in the moonlight after supper... the graceful arc of throat, or shining lock of hair in the lamplight as he wrote letters... she wanted to touch him, to caress and kiss him, to do things she had no right to do.

She knew she could be a bit of a dim bulb when it came to some things, but even she could not continue to be so oblivious that she missed the hints and cues that had been creeping up on her over the past few weeks.

Byakuya joking, Byakuya allowing her to tease him, Byakuya teaching her shunpou and permitting her to give him a picnic... Byakuya displaying his bankai, and holding onto her so tightly as they flew over Seireitei just to make her feel better after she broke her nose... Byakuya smoldering like a sex god of yore as he removed her shoes... Byakuya engaging her in a philosophical discussion when she knew darned well he'd prefer to enjoy the silence, again to distract and cheer her up.

These were not the actions of the detached, apathetic Byakuya that 99.99% of the world got. Orihime knew, she  _knew_ , that he would not have done any of that for just anyone. She even harbored a niggling little scrap of doubt he'd have done it for Rukia herself.

So now that she suspected that he might actually return the attraction she felt for him- she wouldn't go so far to think he might actually be tumbling headlong into love with her the way she was with him- it was becoming harder and harder for her to behave normally around him. After a few days of bumbling and blushing and stammering, Orihime decided she had to put some distance between them before she exploded in a palpitating storm of hormones and frustrated emotion.

Thus it was that after she and Rukia had been discovered crying like fools that Orihime asked Isane if she could work at the free clinic in South Rukongai on a daily basis, not just once a week. Isane, a little confused but delighted to have quality healing available to those unfortunates, agreed readily.

And so Orihime began waking at sunrise, gulping down a hasty breakfast brought to her by a sleepy-eyed servant before the Kuchiki siblings had woken, and shooting off in her best shunpou toward her new occupation. She would spend her precious few  _kan_ on lunch (if she remembered to eat at all), then work late and return home after dark. She was exhausted, but it gave an excellent excuse for her to eat the cold supper left for her, shine the brightest smile she could muster at her friends, and shuffle off to bed, just to do it all again the next day.

It was hard; she missed him terribly. Missed seeing him in the morning as they had breakfast with Rukia, missed having dinner with him at night, missed the evening walk through the manor's grounds and the companionable hobby-work they all engaged in. It was a sense of belonging and family she'd longed for since her brother's death so long ago, and forcibly cutting herself off from it hurt like an open wound.

Still, better this than the alternative, revealing to Byakuya her feelings for him and being rejected, or worse, ruining his life. She knew she was a coward. Who was to say how things might have turned out with Ichigo if she'd had the courage to confront him with her love? Perhaps all that had been needed, then, was for one of them to be strong enough to step forward first. And who was to know how things might turn out if she were able to take that first step toward Byakuya, to frame his face in her hands and whisper "I love you" against his lips.

She had a sickening feeling that if she did that, he might respond in kind. And then she would never be able to pull away from him; her resolve was sorely tested as it was, just as it was now, without him helping to test it further by being sexy and gorgeous and funny and awkwardly sweet. And then he would be deposed as Kuchiki head, and feel terrible shame, and it would be all her fault. So, yes, she was a coward, but she was being a coward  _for him_. That made it less selfish, right? Right?

Orihime shook her head back and forth, trying to clear her head of its conflicted, jumbled thoughts as she flash-stepped through the darkness, heading home after another long day. It had been nonstop healing for her, without time even to grab a bite of lunch. Hunger grumbled in her belly, and a headache throbbed behind her eyes.

She was tired, but maybe she had it in her to do a half-hour of sewing the Seaweed Ambassador. She was almost done, just a little bit more and it would be ready for presentation. Orihime wasn't entirely sure she should be giving it to him. Was it too forward? Inappropriate for her to give such a childish present to him? Maybe she should just keep it for herself, something to remember him by after the days and weeks and years passed... when she was lonely, and wanted to remember the strong, handsome captain who had made her shift from one impossible love to another...

Orihime closed her eyes against the tears that flooded them, then, and felt a wave of regret and fatigue crash over her. She managed to reach a rooftop before her faculties deserted her, stumbling to her knees before toppling to her side. She curled into a ball, thinking, _I'll just rest here for a bit_ , but her vision grayed at the edges before swiftly narrowing to a pinpoint.  _Byakuya_ , she thought. Eyes rolling back, she fainted.

* * *

Byakuya was starting to wonder if something had gone desperately wrong with the zabuton beneath his noble backside, because no matter how he sat or shifted, he could not get comfortable.

He was also starting to wonder if the kitchens had put ginseng or some other energizing ingredient in their dinner tonight, because instead of the slow progression toward relaxation and sleep that typically characterized his evenings, he was feeling excessively jittery, and was having trouble keeping from fidgeting. He kept wanting to tap his pen against the inkstone, or jostle his knee up and down. Abruptly, he realized he was in a foul mood, but could not place the reason for it.

The room was the beautifully appointed chamber in which they always reposed after eating and walking through the grounds; it was the perfect temperature, and furnished with the usually (but not tonight) comfortable zabutons he preferred when engaging in calligraphy, reading, or letter-writing. Across the low table before him, Rukia was reading manga while Renji, flat on his back, snoozed peacefully with his hands behind his head; sometimes she'd read Renji a part she found particularly exciting or funny, and he'd murmur appreciation before sinking back into his doze.

But the room felt bigger tonight, and emptier as well. In addition, he was bored.

"Nii-sama, is something wrong?" Rukia asked, her manga lowered to her lap as she gazed at him. Beside her, Renji raised himself up on his elbows to peer at his captain.

"Yeah, taichou, I haven't seen you frown like that in a long time."

"Frown?" Byakuya performed a swift self-inventory and realized his brow was deeply creased and his mouth turned down in a ferocious scowl. "Hn."

"And..." Rukia began, then stopped, her eyes dropping to where Byakuya had begun drumming his fingers on the table. "You're fidgeting."

Byakuya, with great effort, stilled the motion of his fingers. He couldn't do anything about the frown, however; his face was determined to scowl.

"Maybe he's constipated," commented Renji, tactful as ever. His grin said he wasn't terribly concerned. "Getting late, I'm gonna head home."

Rukia looked startled. "It  _is_ getting late, and Orihime-chan isn't home yet." She closed her manga and placed it to the side, her face troubled. "Should I be worried?"

Byakuya stared at her; as if with a click, his symptoms merged into a single cause: he was anxious that Orihime had not returned yet.

Since she had begun going to South Rukongai to work at the free clinic, she'd begun to return home at night later and later, even as she'd started leaving for the clinic earlier and earlier. When was she sleeping? When was she eating? Byakuya had not seen her for more than one dinner in the past week, and she had looked a bit tired and pale at the time. Her smile was not its usual sunny self, more a limp facsimile of it.

Now, several days later, with little sleep and erratic meals, she was likely fatigued, which would make her distracted and weaker than usual, and more likely to have trouble making her way home. What if, exhausted, she'd taken a wrong turn and gotten lost? Or, as a fledgling user of shunpou, had made a mistake and hit a wall and injured herself?

"I'm sure she's fine," said Renji, ruffling Rukia's hair. "She's a big girl, ne? She can take care of herself."

_He wouldn't be so nonchalant if it were Rukia who were out until almost midnight after working the whole day,_  Byakuya thought sourly. His fingers began drumming again.

"I guess so," said Rukia slowly, not entirely convinced.

"I want another walk around the grounds," Byakuya announced. His sister and Renji looked over at him, surprised, and he just felt so irritated that he couldn't stand another moment of it, so he flash-stepped from the room.

Outside, the air was cooler and fresher; with a deep breath, he decided to visit The Thicket. And once in The Thicket, he thought perhaps he could burn a little of this excess energy by a little flash-stepping around Seireitei. Then he thought Seireitei might be a bit boring, as he spent most of his time in it, so why not take a detour into Rukongai? South Rukongai in particular, as it had been a while since he had ventured in that direction.

And thus he went speeding at top volume in the direction of the free clinic. This was ridiculous behavior on Orihime's part, he decided, irresponsible and even dangerous. He would have a talk with her about being more prudent and taking better care of herself. She would make herself as ill as her patients if she persisted in neglecting herself to tend them.

He was concentrating so hard on Orihime that before he'd even hit the Tenth District he could feel her reiatsu. At first he thought she was much farther away, possibly out in the 60s or even 70s, until he realized that her reiatsu was so depeleted that she was closer but felt distant.

Byakuya tracked Orihime to the Twenty-Third District, where the moonlight bounced in high relief off a slight figure curled up, unmoving, on a slanted rooftop. His heart gave a hard, alarmed beat, and he pushed himself to even greater speed until he could blur to a stop at her side.

"Orihime-san," he said, kneeling on the uneven slate of the roof at her side. The moonlight made her look ghostly pale and gaunt, and Byakuya felt a spurt of anger that she'd let herself decline to this state. He reached out and gave her a none-too-gentle jostle on the shoulder. "Orihime."

She opened her eyes, seeming confused until she rolled her head to the side and saw him. "Byakuya-sama," she said, and smiled. "Why are you here?"

His heart gave another hard beat, but this time it was of relief and gladness. Relief she was safe, and pleasure because she was happy to see him. Rukia had been the only person who had ever reacted with joy to learn of his presence... until Orihime. Even in her tired state, even though he was a cold, arrogant bastard, she was always happy to see him.

"I came for you," he said. It was all he could think to say.

Orihime smiled wider. "I'm glad," she whispered. "I overdid it a bit, and thought I'd just lay down here to rest a little... but then I realized I couldn't get up again, and I hoped you would come for me." She blinked, seeming to think she'd been too familiar. "Or Rukia-chan, or maybe Renji-kun."

"Hn," he replied, not feeling too happy to be lumped in with them.

"You're always saving me, Byakuya-sama," Orihime said, sounding sad. "First when I died, and now again. I'm sorry about that. I hope you know I don't get myself in these pickles on purpose, because I don't. And I hate knowing that I'm inconveniencing and annoying you-"

"You're not," he interrupted, even as he wondered at how, even tired as she was, she could ramble like that.

"I'm not? You're sure?" Orihime peered up at him, studying his face, trying to discern any falsehood. "Don't fib just to make me feel better, Byakuya-sama."

His eyebrows flicked skyward. "I can honestly state that I have never even considered 'fibbing' to make you feel better."

Orihime relaxed back again and closed her eyes, laughing. "I believe you completely." Then she squawked in alarm as Byakuya slid his arms under her shoulders and knees and stood, lifting her up. "Byakuya-sama, this isn't nece-" She squawked again as he flash-stepped into a smooth rhythm that would bring them home.

"Be silent," he said, wishing he had a hand free with which to rub his ear, certain she had deafened him with that squawk.

"But I can flash-step-" she protested, consciously lowering her volume.

"You have pushed yourself beyond your endurance already. Any more and you will become ill."

Orihime stared up at him; there was a set to his jaw that spoke of determination.

"Are you sure?" she persisted in a small voice. She hated the idea of being a bother to him.

He glanced down at her then, in pure exasperation. Orihime hid her face against his shoulder and fought the urge to giggle.

"Okay, okay!" she said, giving in, and snuggled closer against him, seeking the warmth of his body because at the speed they were travelling, the air edged past "cool" into "downright chilly".

He smelled extremely good, and the fine cotton of his kosode was soft against her cheek. She felt his arms tighten around her, and she couldn't repress a smile (which she hid against his lapel). She was warm and safe, safer than she'd ever been in her life, maybe, and also tired, so if she let her eyes close, that was alright, wasn't it?

Byakuya knew the moment she had fallen asleep, could feel the deep and regular breaths she took. He held her closer, until she was flush against him, until he could feel her breath against his throat and her heart beat against his own chest, and knew he was lost.

This, then, was the culmination of the journey he had begun to take the moment she had arrived in Soul Society after her death. The first step had been finding her amusing; then the realization she was good company, and could enjoy discussion with her. Attraction had come, but attraction did not signify anything by itself. The evening Orihime had helped Kira, the things he'd learned about her, had been like a blow to the gut; that night, he had learned he could respect and admire her. And now, tonight, there was no more concealing from himself that he had missed her, in her absence, and worried about her safety. She was important to him; she  _mattered_ to him.

Yes, the journey was over, and the destination at which he had arrived had him feeling apprehensive even as something powerful struggled out from the rocks under which he had buried it.

Love.

It did not come easily to Kuchiki Byakuya; it had always been an entity for which he had had to struggle, and hard. Why, then, did it feel this time like the easiest thing in the world, like it was inevitable, like it would be harder to escape it than pursue it? He looked down at Orihime's sleeping face; most of it was pressed into his chest, but moonlight played over the angle of her temple, shadowing her eye while caressing the curve of her cheekbone and the dip in the center of her upper lip.

Yes, this had begun the moment he'd arrived in response to her summons when she'd died.

Unfortunately, it did not appear to him as if Orihime had taken the same journey in regards to him. She treated him with the same ditzy fondness she held for all her friends. And the last week she had behaved the direct opposite as one might expect from a woman falling in love. For all he knew, she was still in love with Kurosaki Ichigo, in spite of all her protestations that she had given up on the daft orange-haired man.

Once again, had he tumbled into love with a woman whose affections were already irrevocably engaged? First Hisana, whose guilt over abandoning Rukia proved a barrier keeping her from returning his love; and now Orihime and her devotion to a hero who could never love her back?

Byakuya was not blind to the irony.

Thus, feeling subdued and a bit heartsore, he arrived at his estate, shouldering open the shoji outside Orihime's bedroom and carrying her inside.

"Nii-sama," said Rukia, slipping into the room from the interior fusumi door. "You found her. I knew you would." She smiled gently at him- bless her, without any mockery at all- and helped him lay Orihime on her futon before reaching to remove her friend's shoes. "What happened?"

"She exhausted herself and could not continue, so fell asleep on a rooftop," he replied quietly. There were no roses in Orihime's cheeks, and she seemed small and drawn against the white sheets. It worried him. "She must not go again tomorrow; she must rest and eat well for several days, at least."

Rukia's gaze darted to him as she pulled the sheet and quilt up over Orihime, then lowered again. "Yes, Nii-sama," she agreed.

Byakuya felt a bit embarrassed, as if Rukia had correctly guessed his feelings, and averted his own gaze to look around the room. Something green was on the shelf; with a jolt, he recognized it as the Seaweed Ambassador of which he was fond. It appeared to be a doll of some sort, and still in a half-finished state. Why would she make such a thing? Was she making it for him? Who else could it be for? Who else would appreciate it but he?

He drew in a single, hard breath, hands clenching around folds of his hakama to keep from going to Orihime, from taking her up in his arms. He received priceless, thoughtless gifts on a daily basis from those in his own as well as other clans, all in the name of ingratiating the giver to Byakuya, so he would become more inclined to grant them his favor.

But she was making this doll, for him, with her own hands, and he knew she did it for no reason other than because he would like it and she wanted to make him happy. Love beat like wings within his chest, burning and agonizing and joyful and-

"Oh, no, Nii-sama, did you see it?" Rukia rose from Orihime's bedside and crossed quickly to the doll, opening a nearby drawer and sweeping it within. "Pretend you didn't see it, okay, Nii-sama? I know she wants it to be a surprise for you."

"I will be just as surprised when she gives it to me as I am at this moment," he murmured, and Rukia gave a low laugh, thinking he was making another dry joke. In truth, he knew he would be just as amazed at Orihime's gift when he received it as he was upon learning she was making it for him now.

"There," said Rukia, pressing a button on a bright pink thing... a clock, perhaps? "I turned off her alarm. She had it set for dawn, can you imagine? But now she'll sleep in. I'll stay home tomorrow to make sure she rests."

Byakuya studied his sister a moment; in the dim light, she looked so small and young and he wanted to protect her, no matter that he knew first-hand how resilient and determined she was. "You are a good friend," he told her.

Her eyes flew up to him, and her cheeks colored in pleasure. "N- Nii-sama!" she exclaimed, though quietly, so as to not disturb the sleeping Orihime. "Thank you!"

They left the room, moving down the hallway to their own respective chambers. Before they parted ways, Rukia paused, touching his sleeve for the briefest second. "You are a good friend, too, Nii-sama," she said, and disappeared into her room.

Byakuya went into his room, not really seeing any of the familiar surroundings as he stripped off his clothing and donned a sleeping yukata. He stretched out on his futon, dropped his head to the pillow, and recalled how it had felt to hold Orihime while she slept in his arms. He imagined what it might be like to have her here with him, now, to hold her against his body while they drifted to sleep. He could almost feel the weight of her head on his shoulder again, could picture the spill of her chestnut hair across his chest and twined around his fingers...

"Orihime," he whispered into the darkness. It felt good to say her name aloud.

Perhaps, one day, she would be there to answer him.


	14. Chapter 14

Byakuya had not wanted to go to work the next morning- had wanted to stay by Orihime's side until she recovered, in fact- but could think of no way to explain his absence in a way that would not incite interest and many questions. So he went, but instructed Rukia to notify him at once if Orihime's condition worsened, and spent the entire morning pretending to work when really he was brainstorming ways to prevent Orihime from sickening like this again.

It was just past noon and from his own desk on the other side of the office, Renji was mumbling something about lunch when a butterfly arrived.

"Nii-sama," said Rukia's voice, "Orihime-chan's pulse is... I can barely feel it. She's scarcely breathing. I've sent for Unohana-taichou."

Byakuya shot to his feet. "Renji," he said, more out of habit in calling for his lieutenant to join him than necessity, and flash-stepped from the room.

He arrived home in under a minute, ignoring the servants' bowing to stride toward Orihime's room, Renji on his heels. The feel of Unohana's reiatsu told Byakuya she was already present, and as he pushed aside the fusuma he saw the healer kneeling, her own lieutenant at her side, by the futon. Unohana was holding Orihime's wrist, palpitating delicately with her fingertips, eyes closed in concentration.

Orihime's skin was pale, almost gray, and it did not seem as if she breathed at all- her chest barely moved. Her bright hair lay listless and dull across the Western-style pillow. It was as if she were already dead.

For a moment, the room swam around Byakuya as he was forcibly reminded of his wife's last hours. Hisana had looked much the same, her tiny hands limp, her skin waxen, lips white, eyelids so heavy she could not lift them. All the grief he had felt at her loss swept over him again now, joined with terror that he might lose Orihime, and he dropped to his knees beside the futon with a heaviness foreign to him.

"Nii-sama," Rukia whispered, and he dragged his gaze from Orihime to take in his sister's haggard appearance. Her eyes were red, and a tear trickled down her cheek. Renji knelt behind her, drawing her slight body back against his strong frame, offering her his strength.

"Unohana-taichou," he said, "all Kuchiki resources are at your disposal."

She barely glanced at him.

"Thank you, Kuchiki-taichou," Isane-fukitaichou replied for her captain. "But I believe that Orihime-san's condition is not something that can be cured with a medicine or anything one can buy." She paused. "I am not sure how familiar you are with the intricacies of how reiryoku works-"

"I know one must eat to replenish it," he interrupted, his eyes going back to Orihime. She was usually so animated, so alive, that seeing her so still was even more alarming than it would have been.

"-usually it regenerates itself, but on occasions such as this when it is so vastly depleted, there is none left to do the work of creating more. It can be replenished by donation by a strong person with a large pool of reiryoku and strong reiatsu, which is what Unohana-taichou is doing right now, but it is a delicate undertaking and donating too much can put the donor into the same situation as the patient."

Byakuya glanced down at where the other captain's hand was encircling Orihime's wrist. A faint green glow told him that Unohana's reiatsu was duly coursing into the other woman.

"It is a task that takes immense concentration, as one must direct the flow with one's will; it must be strong enough to penetrate the external shell of the patient's reiryoku, yet gentle enough not to push against the confines of the shell and damage it. And it is very draining; a person should not donate more than one hour at a time or there is a risk of becoming weakened, losing concentration and control of the flow, donating so much that you become depleted and need donation yourself..."

"I will donate," Rukia stated. A pointy little elbow to the ribs had Renji saying, "I will, too."

"And I," added Byakuya.

"You will all be needed," said Unohana, speaking at last. "And, Kuchiki-fukutaichou, you will want to fetch Kurosaki-san. His sheer quantity of reiatsu will be needed." She paused. "I would ask Kenpachi-taichou, but I do not believes he lacks the... delicacy needed for this procedure."

"I'll go get Ichigo right now!" Rukia exclaimed, fighting free of Renji's encircling arms and standing.

"I'll get him," Renji said, getting to his feet and laying a hand on her shoulder. "You stay here with Orihime-chan."

Once he was gone, they sat in silence, watching Unohana pour reiatsu into Orihime, who looked no different at the end of the hour than she had at the beginning.

"Orihime-san is very strong, and her well of reiryoku is going to take a lot to replenish it," said Unohana after she disconnected herself and Isane had taken her place. "I doubt we'll see an improvement for at least half a day."

"What if we can't get her stabilized before it's all filled back up?" Rukia asked, trying valiantly to control her voice's quaver. "She won't die, will she?"

"She will probably not die, but she will have a lengthy recuperation period- several months in bed at least- and she will be no stronger than an average Plus. I think this would be very difficult on Orihime-san, as she places great value on her abilities to protect and heal." Unohana smiled warmly at Rukia. "So we will work very hard to prevent it from happening."

They settled in to watch Isane donate reiatsu to Orihime for several minutes; Byakuya felt impatient, worried, irritable and actually had to work to conceal it. He decided to take advantage of Unohana's presence and discuss with her an idea he'd conceived that morning while he had been supposed to have been working.

"Unohana-taichou, may I have a word in private?" he asked, and led her from the room.

* * *

Byakuya gestured for Unohana to seat herself on one of the exquisitely embroidered silk zabutons placed before his low, beautifully lacquered desk, then slid shut the fusuma.

"I thank you for your kindness in speaking with me," Byakuya said formally.

"Not at all," she demurred, equally polite. "It is always a pleasure to be of assistance to a fellow captain. What am I able to do for you, Kuchiki-taichou?"

"I would like to discuss plans for when Inoue-sensei has recovered from this illness," he stated.

" _When_ , Kuchiki-taichou? Not  _if_?" She spoke very gently, as she always did. Byakuya felt an unreasonable urge to throttle her.

" _When_ ," he repeated firmly. "I have no doubt that Inoue-sensei will make a full recovery."  _I will tolerate nothing less if I have to do it all myself_ , he added to himself.

Unohana did not reply, just sat watching him. He recognized it as a move he himself often employed; if you remain silent, most people cannot bear the silence and will speak to fill the void. Usually they revealed things they ought not. He had no intention of revealing anything other than what he intended.

"I am sure you bear some interest, because of Inoue-sensei's healing abilities, in having her join your division," Byakuya stated, deciding to open with that.

Unohana did not permit herself so much as a blink in surprise. "Yes," she said, "I would be very happy to welcome Inoue-sensei to my division. She would be a very capable healer and valuable addition to the Gotei." Left unsaid was, 'What can this possibly be to you?'

He seemed aware of her slight confusion, because something flickered in his eyes, some moment of conflict before he appeared to come to a decision and just say it. "Are you also aware that she has received advanced training in the field of psychiatry?"

Unohana pursed her lips. "That is the study and treatment of mental pathology, is it not? I believe the living world pays it far more attention than we do here in Soul Society."

"Correct. Inoue-sensei has identified a need for psychiatric treatment for various of our shinigami, and indeed has begun providing therapeutic sessions to several of them on her own."

Unohana smiled. "How generous of her. May I assume that it has been a positive experience so far?"

A servant entered with a tea tray, at that point; she poured the tea and departed in total silence. Only when the fusuma shut soundlessly behind her did Byakuya continue.

"Yes," he said with a nod. "You may. However, I have come to the conclusion that she would be more effective in assisting those in need of her talents if she had more official support and structure, so that she were able to provide her services to a greater range of those who might benefit from her training." He took up his cup of tea and relaxed back in his chair.

"Kuchiki-taichou," said Unohana, "I believe you are asking me to create a position in my division from which Inoue-san would provide these services to the shinigami of the Gotei. Am I correct?"

"Yes. She has stated several times that she is concerned with a lack of confidentiality, since she has no secure location at which she can hold sessions with her patients." He sipped at the tea. "She worries that people will refuse to access her because they do not wish to be seen meeting obviously with her. And since psychiatry is almost unknown in Soul Society, without having a place in the official medical division, she believes she will not be taken seriously, and thus will be unable to reach those whom she could help."

"These are all excellent points you bring up, Kuchiki-taichou. I will consider them carefully," said Unohana. Her own tea was left untouched on the low table between them. "May I ask why you are going to such effort to establish Inoue-sensei in her own practice? It seems a very... altruistic effort on your part."

Byakuya's limpid gaze flew from his teacup on his knee up to meet Unohana's, clearly startled by the question; she'd have sworn, under oath, that a faint and very pretty flush came and went on his cheeks. For a fraught moment, she thought he might actually reply. Then he fell back into his typical Kuchiki hauteur and let his eyes fall closed, his face a perfect, blank mask.

"I thank you for your time," he said, placing his cup carefully on the table and standing.

"Of course," Unohana replied automatically, standing and following him to the door. She'd known Byakuya from before he'd been born, had performed prenatal exams on his mother when she'd carried him. This behavior was... unprecedented.  _How fascinating._

She had already decided to ask Inoue Orihime to join her division, even prior to Byakuya's visit, but now... now, she  _had_ to have the girl join them in the Fourth, if for no other reason than to see whatever this was come to fruition.

Once she'd gone, Byakuya returned to his desk and sat again. He was not best pleased at his brief slip of control- blushing like a schoolboy, how revolting- but what was done was done and Unohana was not one to gossip; he felt sure it would go no farther than this room.

His reason for requesting she hire Orihime? There was not a whit of altruism about it; he believed that if Orihime were occupied all day at the Fourth, she wouldn't have time to flitter back and forth to the clinic in the 50th District, exhausting herself to the point of being in danger.

Not that she wouldn't continue to go; Byakuya took it as a certainty that as soon as Orihime felt well enough, off she'd go to the clinic once more. Her shunpou was still regrettably slow, and the trip would still take considerable time.  _Unacceptable_.

Byakuya stood and poked his head out the fusuma; a servant was instantly inquiring what he needed. He requested his secretary's presence, seating himself once more while waiting. When the man arrived, Byakuya was just pouring sand over the sheet of paper upon which he'd written a list of what he required.

"You will purchase a house in the 50th District," he commanded without preamble.

"Your grace?" the man squeaked, clearly surprised, not that he would be ordered to purchase property, but the location- the 50th? It was commonly regarded as the last district with any claim to lawfulness- beyond it,  _there be dragons_. He took the paper held out to him, eyes flicking over it at speed. "Comfortable, modest size, easily defensible, fully stocked and furnished, four guards, one cook/housekeeper...?"

"Is there anything on the list that is unclear?" Byakuya asked, face blank. He did not explain himself to servants.

"No, your grace. I will commence work on it tomorrow, your grace."

"You will commence work on it  _today_ ," Byakuya corrected. He recalled that Orihime had said her favorite color was, regrettably, yellow. "Yellow. Have it painted yellow." Pause. "A  _tasteful_  shade of yellow." As Ise Nanao-fukutaichou was fond of saying,  _let's not get carried away._

The secretary stared at him, clearly wondering at his sanity. "Of course, your grace. Immediately, your grace." He bowed himself backward out of the study.

Byakuya returned to Orihime's bedroom to find that Isane had finished her donation of reiatsu and was instructing Rukia in how to do it.

"If Orihime-san doesn't improve after a day, Unohana-taichou will want to relocate her to the relief station hospital at the Fourth," Isane-fukutaichou was saying. "We will begin sending healers to donate immediately."

"We won't need them for four hours at the earliest," Rukia muttered, her brow creased in concentration. "After me, Renji will go, then Nii-sama, if he is agreeable-" she glanced up at him, saw his nod, and continued, "-and then Ichigo will go. They might even bring some Vaizard with them to donate; I know Hachi-san is very fond of Orihime and would want to help."

"Just send a butterfly to us when you need reinforcements, then," Isane said with a nod, then bowed to Byakuya and flash-stepped away.

It was easier said than done; when her hour was up, Rukia scowled as she carefully withdrew her reiatsu from Orihime and stretched her arms over her head. "Where is that redheaded idiot?"

"Which one?" Byakuya asked with the faintest of grins.

"Either of them! They should have been back before Isane finished, let alone me!" She huffed. "Nii-sama, I will go fetch them here. Will you donate now, or do you want to wait?"

He didn't want to wait even a moment; he wanted Orihime awake and well immediately. Sooner. "I will donate now."

Rukia coached him through the process. "Take her wrist, and find where her reiatsu beats, right alongside her pulse. Follow it to her heart and... Isane said it was like falling into her soul. Just permit yourself to fall into Orihime's soul, and you will feel the shell where her reiryoku is contained."

Byakuya stretched out his senses; there, so weak it was almost nonexistent, was the faint beat of Orihime's reiatsu. He traced it up her arm, into her chest, and felt a moment's breathless paralysis before falling into a deep velvet-black void. His first instinct was to fight, to struggle back out, but he forced himself to tumble into the abyss.

And then he was breathless again, for though it was dark, it was also warm and soft and utterly permeated with love. "Oh," he murmured in wonder, unable to stop himself.

"Yes," said Rukia from far away, a smile in her voice. "Isn't that just so Orihime? She's so beautiful inside. Nothing there but love... no anger, no fear. Just love."

Byakuya's throat was so tight that he couldn't have spoken, even were he inclined to. This was like being wrapped in a blanket made of love, or stepping into a room where every hurt ever felt, every slight ever endured, every sadness ever experienced melted away, to be replaced by acceptance and support and hope, hope so strong it  _burned_.

It was like heaven had been reborn into a person. Byakuya never wanted to leave.

"I'll go fetch those boneheads now," he thought he heard Rukia say. He mumbled something that sounded like agreement. "I'll be back before your hour is up." Another mumble. Rukia might have laughed; it didn't matter.

Byakuya probed deeper, seeking Orihime's reiryoku, finding it far below. The surface shimmered, like oil rippling over black water, and he sent the first tendril of his own reiatsu at it. His first foray was easily rebuffed, as the surface's tension was tougher than it looked, more of a capsule than anything.

He tried again, pushing harder, very carefully increasing pressure until he felt the surface give way. With a sigh, the reiatsu tendril slid within. Byakuya could feel Rukia there, and Isane and Unohana. Far, far beneath them was Orihime; he caught his breath at how very weak it was, and how little of her was left. He tamped down a shaft of anger at how close they had come to losing her and began the process of donation.


	15. Chapter 15

Orihime came slowly to consciousness, feeling like she had to slog through waist-high mud to do it. She fought through the grey flannel layers of her mind until she struggled to wakefulness.

Movement came slower; her eyes weighed a thousand kilos each, and her limbs were heavier still. When she was finally able to open her eyes, she was a bit confused to see the clear blue sky visible overhead through the yellow daffodils rising tall all around her. 

"Oh," she said, recognizing her inner world, though she had not meditated in order to enter it as was usually necessary. "That's weird."

It took another few minutes before she was able to sit up, and she was so weak she couldn't sit up and had to brace her arms behind her to keep from flopping back. Frowning, she puzzled over how she'd come to be there. Her last memory was of being carried by Byakuya through the night, toward the estate... then nothing. She supposed she'd fallen asleep, and guessed he'd put her to bed, but that didn't explain why she was in her inner world, or why she was so weak... 

_Ugh, whatever_ , she thought, feeling a bit despondent. She was starting to feel a familiar mood come over her, a mood she recognized from the time when she'd been in the fullest grip of her love of Ichigo. It was a feeling of lassitude borne of frustration and despair; it was the resignation that she was in love with someone who could not, would never, be able to love her back. Orihime huffed out a breath, closed her eyes, and let her head hang back. 

"Holy fucking shit, woman!" screeched a tiny, outraged voice, and then Tsubaki came pelting out of nowhere to launch himself directly into the center of her forehead with such force that her wobbly arms gave way and she collapsed to the ground. 

"Tsu-" she began.

"You're lucky I didn't split your empty head like a melon!" he continued, shrill with fury.

"But-"

He quivered with wrath as he fluttered before her, mid-air. "I can't take any more of this moping self-pity! I'm going to kick you in your lopsided ass if you don't stop it  _right now_!"

Orihime wibbled as the other five fairies flew into view. "Shun'ou-san, I-"

"Tsubaki has a good point, Orihime-san," he interrupted gently. "You're very ill right now, and it's because you have rather... unhelpful ways of coping with your problems."

"I'm ill?" That explained her weakness, but worse... Orihime reeled not only from being pummeled by Tsubaki but sweet Shun'ou's bluntness. "What unhelpful ways?"

Tsubaki let out a wordless howl of rage and zoomed off.

"Let's put it in clinical terms," Shun'ou said. "You have terrible self-esteem, a pathologically strong denial defense mechanism, and for a psychiatrist, remarkably poor self-awareness."

Shy Ayame fluttered closer. "You have to conquer all of these things if you ever hope to achieve bankai," she whispered in Orihime's ear.

"I'm not as self-unaware as you think," Orihime protested, "I know that my powers-- that all of you-- are because I'm in denial about things that I wish weren't happening."

"But there is so much more that you must face and overcome," Shun'ou said. "Without it, there is no progress. There is no mastery. You will remain, and stagnate. Is this something that appeals to you?"

Orihime slumped. She didn't want to face her insecurities. She didn't want to examine the causes of her poor self-esteem, didn't want to enhance her ability to accept unfortunate reality. 

On the other hand, if something bad happened again, she didn't want to be unprepared. She didn't want to let anyone down, and she certainly didn't want to be unable to help or heal someone when things went south.

And at some point, things _always_ went south. This, at least, was something she could admit to herself. It seemed as if, just like the day she had died, and hadn't wanted Rukia to kidou her memories to her soul, Orihime was going to have to do something because she felt she owed it to her friends, rather than because she really wanted to. Maybe this weakness to guilt-tripping-- even if the one doing the guilt-trip was herself-- was something she could defeat, too.

"No," she said at last, resigned. "This is going to be hard, isn't it?"

"It's gonna hurt like hell!" Tsubaki shouted in glee. "Let's get started!"

 

* * *

 

Byakuya lost track of time at some point during his donation; his focus on controlling the rate and force of his donation was so absolute that he was unaware of the minutes streaming by. Awareness of his surroundings faded, awareness of his own body faded. The edges of his vision began to gray out, and he had the sensation of drifting deeper into the dark, soft place that was Orihime's soul.

Should he fight it? Would it harm her if he did? Those crucial moments he took to ponder the issue were the moments he'd have needed to pull back; once passed, there was no return. Byakuya plummeted down, down, down, down, down... and consciousness, hazy to begin with, winked out entirely.

He came awake again in a rush of sensation. He was in a meadow, a rolling hill carpeted thickly with yellow daffodils, and the sky overhead was a clear, cloud-studded blue. He could feel Orihime everywhere. She was in the sunlight that warmed his face and she was in the breeze that cooled him, she was in the flowers that brushed his legs as he walked across the meadow, she was in the soil underfoot. 

There were no rocks, no buildings, no signs of civilization, no horizon in any direction. In the distance, a dark line suggested there might be a row of tall, thickly-leafed trees. A dark circle beyond the trees looked like it might be a pond. He kept walking toward where his sense of Orihime felt strongest, and after a few minutes, spied her sitting under one of the trees. She looked up and saw him, her mouth dropping open in surprise at first. 

Then she leapt up and waved happily at him. He would never tire of being welcomed by her. 

"Byakuya-sama!" Orihime exclaimed. "I didn't know people could travel into each others' inner worlds."

"Nor did I," he replied. "I apologize for my intrusion. It was not done by choice."

She waved her hands back and forth. "It's fine! It's fine! Please feel welcome."

They bowed awkwardly to each other, exquisitely aware of what a profound encroachment it was for Byakuya to have entered Orihime's inner world. 

"Won't you sit down?" Orihime asked brightly. "I don't have any tea to offer you. I'm... not used to having visitors here."

"I am not thirsty," Byakuya replied, and sat beside her. Under the tree, instead of daffodils, there was lush grass. It was supremely comfortable. The cool shade thrown by the leafy branches overhead gave Byakuya visions of lazy naps and afternoons idled away in relaxation. It was similar to the picnic Orihime had foisted upon him in gratitude for her first shunpou lesson, and Byakuya knew that this is where she had gotten the idea. He felt a pang of shame at his lack of proper appreciation; she had been trying to share a bit of herself with him, and he had been ungracious. "But thank you." 

"It's... very weird to have you here. Nice! But weird." Orihime squinted at him, clearly baffled. "So why _are_ you here?" 

He studied her for a moment. Her eyes were reddened, as if she had been crying, and her clothing-- a simple white dress with some sort of ruffly lacy bits-- looked a bit ragged, as if she'd been in a fight. "You have fallen ill," he replied, "due to reiatsu depletion. Various of us are donating our own reiatsu to you in an effort to restore your reiryoku to what it should be."

"Hm," said Orihime, "I thought I felt Unohana-taichou, and Isane-fukutaichou, and Rukia-chan. But it was more like being aware of their reiatsu when they're nearby. Then I could feel you, but stronger. I thought that was just because--" She stopped suddenly, and a tide of pink came and went in her cheeks. 

_What was that,_ Byakuya wondered. He decided not to ask. A person was allowed their secrets in their own inner world. "It has been many hours since you first fell asleep, and your reiryoku has not been recovering as it should," he continued. "Hence the donations. It appears that something is using it up while we are replacing it. If we cannot pour reitatsu into you faster than you deplete it, we will not be able to save you."

Her eyes were big and alarmed. "What does that mean? Will I die?" Pause. "Again?"

"Probably not," said Byakuya, softening the blow as best he could. He did not want to upset her, but would not lie. "More likely you would simply lose your powers and become a normal Plus soul."

"I wonder what... oh!" She huffed out an impatient breath. "I've been doing some really tough training while I've been here. You caught me on my first break in a long time."

"It has been approximately seventeen hours since I brought you home last night," he replied. 

Orihime peered around at the endless expanse of daffodils. "Feels like I've been here seventeen _days_." She offered him a weak smile. "I've been fighting with my fairies. They're forcing me to come to some hard truths about myself, and it hasn't been pretty."

He nodded. "I recall those fights of my own. They are the main reasons I am who and how I am today." He wasn't sure that was a good thing.

She seemed to sense his confliction about it, and smiled warmly at him. "Then we should thank Senbonzakura for that," she said. Byakuya felt her sweetness pierce through to his soul. 

There seemed little to say. He had no idea how to evict himself from her Inner World, and she seemed disinclined to force the issue. They sat companionably, enjoying the perfection of the space. The lack of servants interrupting him to ask him something, of elders pestering him for some alliance with another noble family, of professional matters requiring his attention, was beatific and Byakuya allowed himself to sink into the relaxation of it.

 

* * *

 

He hadn't realized he'd drifted to sleep until a light touch on his wrist woke him up; he opened his eyes to find Orihime just withdrawing her hand and smiling at him.

"Byakuya-sama," she said sweetly, "if you're so sleepy, just put your head here and take a nap." She indicated her lap. As he watched, she patted her thigh. "C'mon, Tatsuki-chan and Uryuu-kun both swear I'm the most comfortable person to nap on that they ever met!"

What a strange and dubious honor. And what an _inappropriate_ offer, no matter how inviting a picture she presented, sitting against the tree as she was, fresh-looking in her lacy white dress with all that warm chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulders... and he did feel weary; the donation must be exhausting him more than he had thought it would... and a nap sounded refreshing...

Absolutely not. Impossible. "Thank you, no," he told her.

She gave him a one-shouldered shrug and a little smile. "Suit yourself," she sang, and turned her face into the breeze while her eyes closed in bliss. Byakuya focused his gaze on the hills rolling before him in endless undulations of daffodils, but it wasn't long before the flowers were blurring and swimming in his vision as his heavy lids

dirfted

closed

again.

This time, small hands helped him shift to lay on his side on the silky grass; his head was pillowed on something plush-feeling; soft cotton against his cheek was comforting as insects buzzed in the gentle heat, and leaves rustled in the breeze that flowed, cool and forgiving, over his skin. The same light touch swept an errant strand of hair from his forehead. Byakuya felt warm and safe. He slept.

 

* * *

  
Orihime had a tiny smile on her lips as Byakuya settled into slumber, his head on her thigh, his face toward her as he lay on his side. He worked so hard taking care of everyone else-- his division, his clan, his sister, even her-- and no one ever thought to take care of him in return. Even now, the reason he was here was to help her. He would gain nothing from it. She marveled that she had ever thought him cold, or unlikable. He was imminently likable. And lovable.  

She wished there were more she could do to lighten his burden, but he had servants to attend his every whim. Cooks cooked for him, maids cleaned for him, his secretary kept his paperwork in order and even kept his favorite inkstones on hand and his knife sharp (though Byakuya would not let the man mix his ink; he preferred to create his own secret blend for his treasured calligraphy).

So all of Byakuya's physical and intellectual needs were well met; but did no one think of the emotional ones? He seemed mired in such self-imposed solitude, and as someone who treasured cameraderie and bonds of friendship so dearly, Orihime imagined the pain of that loneliness must hurt terribly. She could see how dearly he loved Rukia, and how he depended on Renji even if he'd die before admitting it, but were two people-- neither of whom he actually shared any of his thoughts or feelings with-- enough?

_Three people,_ she amended, because she definitely counted herself as someone with whom Byakuya could share himself, even if he did not yet realize it. She'd listen to whatever he wanted to tell her, and never laugh at him. The trick would be convincing him to do so. No mean feat, that, and she had no idea how to begin doing it.

_A task for another day_ , she decided. Right now, she was feeling so drowsy. The breeze flowed around them, the insects buzzed a low, steady hum, and Byakuya's head was a warm, welcome weight in her lap. Orihime felt safe and relaxed. She slept.

 

* * *

  
When Byakuya opened his eyes, it was to see soft buttery rays of sunlight filtering through the leaves swaying overhead. His head was pillowed on something; he turned his head to see that Orihime was seated, her back against the trunk of the tree, and his head lay on her lap. One of her hands, the one closest to him, was resting on his chest, with one of his own covering it securely. Her head was bowed forward, her eyes were closed, and her breathing was light and regular; she was asleep.

He did not remember putting his head on her lap; in fact, distinctly recalled refusing her invitation to do so. And yet there he was, flat on his back, and he felt more comfortable and at ease than he could recall feeling in decades.

He glanced up at her again. He tensed in preparation to sit up, and, still asleep, her other hand came up to soothe him, smoothing his hair back and running her thumb over one eyebrow before falling limply back to her side.

Byakuya felt the shock of it to his toes. The notion of giving to others was so intrinsic to Orihime that even in sleep, at the first detection of unease, her response was to provide comfort with her touch. How long had it been since another person had touched him so easily, so comfortingly, with such implicit care?

His first reaction to it, from the deepest, oldest part of his soul, was an internal cry of, "Again! More!" and that shocked him, too-- he had not realized how hungry he was for the touch of another, for that simple sensation of skin-on-skin that gave proof to one's existence. As an experiment, he shifted his head on Orihime's lap-- just a little-- and right away, her hand was there again, stroking his hair, fingers gentle as they combed through it. This time, as she settled down again, her hand did not fall away, but remained buried in the thick black mass of it.

He felt a twisting in his chest as something fundamental shifted within him, and a dark craving was born. After so long, so very, very long, he just did not have the strength to deny himself this comfort.

Byakuya shifted his head yet again, and this time Orihime's hand glided down over his cheek, lingering there, fingertips brushing over the line of his jaw to the edge of his (it must be admitted) rather pointy chin. And Byakuya, hoping desperately that she was so deeply asleep that she'd never know the difference, placed his own hand over hers and pressed it against his him, molding it to the bones of his face, holding it there until she began to stir.

He quickly released her and sat up, shifting until he was a more decorous two or three feet away from her as she woke up. When her eyes opened, she fixed them dreamily on his face, and smiled. "Ah, Byakuya-sama," she said, "wasn't that a nice nap?"

He didn't have to reply. She stretched her arms a little and continued, "This is the best place, to me." She wiggled her bare toes happily. "I don't think there's another place that would make me feel so comfortable. Is the inner world an image of a person's most favorite scene?"

"It is said that the inner world is a reflection of one's state of mind," Byakuya replied. All around him, the yellow blooms nodded their heads in the breeze. Idly, he plucked one, running the stem through his fingers before rubbing a silky petal between his fingers. "I imagine that if you were depressed, your inner world could not be so sunny, nor the flowers so bright."

She opened her eyes and nodded at him, implicitly trusting his authority on the subject. "What is your inner world like?"

Byakuya opened his mouth to tell her, then closed it again. Was it something he should share with her? Did he even want to? He felt almost... shy about revealing himself to her thusly, wondering what she would think of it. In opposition to this unspoilt, wild place of trees and flowers, with not a sign of civilization-- in fact, he felt rather like they were poised at the dawn of time, in an era before a single creature dwelled on the earth-- his inner world was a rigid model of the rules and customs that he lived by. Would she understand it, and thus, him? Would she pity him for it?

He loved her, did he not? Was she not worthy of that love because of her honesty and kindness? He gazed into her open face, her trusting eyes, and knew she would not. "Would you prefer to see it in person?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orihime's "theme song" for this chapter is Parachute by Ingrid Michaelson, in particular the lines
> 
> "I don't tell anyone about the way you hold my hand  
> I don't tell anyone about the things that we have planned  
> I won't tell anybody that you turn the world around  
> I won't tell anyone that your voice is my favorite sound  
> I won't tell anybody, won't tell anybody  
> They wanna see us fall, they wanna see us fall down."

"Close your eyes," Byakuya instructed Orihime; she obediently shut them and waited patiently. He was not entirely sure how to accomplish a transfer from her inner world to his, but figured he would try the usual way, first. 

He arranged himself into the appropriate meditative position customarily used by all shinigami to enter _jinzen_ , the state of mind needed to penetrate one's own inner world. He calmed his mind, settled his thoughts, focused on Zenbonzakura, and felt his consciousness slip sideways as Orihime's bright meadow faded, growing darker, as if twilight had come upon it swiftly. The world turned into a realm painted in azure and cerulean, then sapphire and cobalt, before settling into a velvety indigo, spangled with stars. 

They were still seated beneath a tree, but instead of under a tall aspen in Orihime's meadow, they were in the exquisite formal garden that comprised Byakuya's inner world beneath a Japanese maple with leaves of scarlet. Seeing their color was no challenge, as despite the darkness, the moon was huge and bright, and stone lanterns had been placed strategically to illuminate the area. The daffodils had been replaced with carefully sculptured shrubbery and trees, with a narrow stone footpath winding throughout. Not far away, the little pond reflected the moon in a wavering silver ribbon that coursed below the half-circle of a bridge arching over the pond's span. The far side of the pond featured a tiny, exquisite jewel of a tea house, its perfectly balanced design and symmetry always a balm to Byakuya after the riotous chaos of the real world. 

He gazed around at it in wonder, as he did every time he entered his inner world. He felt... full, as if his skin were bulging outward from being overstuffed, and realized that it was the result of Orihime's soul residing within his own. An inner world was meant to house only two: a person and his zanpakutou. There was no room alloted for visitors, and the effect was of being forced into clothes that were far, far too small. His chagrin at entering her inner world without permission grew.

Beside him, Orihime gasped. "Oh..." she breathed. "This is..." It didn't seem she could decide on what to look at first, her eyes flying from the pond to the bridge to the lanterns to the tea house to the trees. When she looked back at him at last, she said, "Is it true that inner worlds are a reflection of their owner's soul?"

He nodded, but a thread of apprehension coiled in his belly. "Their owner's, and their zanpakutou's."

"Then, Byakuya, you're very beautiful." Her smile seemed to glow brighter than the moon. Then she waved to some invisible creature somewhere only she could imagine it being. "Oh, and you too, Senbonzakura, if you can hear me!"

Byakuya could feel Senbonzakura's delight in the compliment. It burned almost as fiercely as his own. He was, of course, aware of his physical appearance; his mother had been renowned for her great beauty, and his father had been a handsome man; by all accounts, Byakuya was nearly his father's mirror image. He had had no control over his looks, but had been judged by them and treated accordingly the entirety of his life. By this point, he discounted them as entirely worthless, contributing nothing to his honor, his pride, his strength, or his accomplishments. 

But this... Orihime's admiration for the beauty of his _soul_ \-- not his face and form, not for his wealth or what his power could do for her-- this was a true tribute, and it humbled him. It was the first time in his life he had revealed such a tender inner working of himself and the gesture had been met with heartfelt approval. After a lifetime of strict rules, of clan elders invariably demanding more and better, of offering himself to Hisana and being gently, kindly, sweetly rejected.

Orihime saw him. 

She _saw_ him, naked and shivering before her, and she found beauty there.

Such was his his relief, such was his gratitude and pleasure, that he did something he had not done in years. In decades, in over a century, in fact.

He smiled.

* * *

Orihime turned back to Byakuya, and found him... smiling at her. Smiling. _Byakuya_. 

It was a thing of glory. 

It was nowhere near Renji's wide, reckless grin; it bore no resemblance to Uryuu's faint upturn of a smirk. It was a modest smile, hesitant, a little shy, and Orihime felt like she was approaching a wild animal, like a sudden move would scare it away. 

Oh, if she hadn't already been in love with him... this would have sealed the deal. As it was, Orihime's heart felt near to bursting. She clasped her hands together over it to keep it from leaping out of her chest and flying toward him. She wanted to go to him, to kiss that smile, to touch his face and wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head on his chest and listen to him breathe.

She knew she could do none of that, not one thing of it. Because she also knew, now, that he loved her too, or something very close to it, and he would let her. And once they had declared themselves to each other, he would want to be with her, probably in a really public way that they couldn't hide from the Kuchiki elders, who would then depose him as head of the clan.

And that would humiliate him beyond bearing. He had been reared to think of nothing but his family for the entirety of his life; even more than his vocation as a soldier and captain of the Gotei 13, it was his reason for being. The shame of being stripped of his title and duties would crush him in a way that Orihime could not bear to be the catalyst for.

She had to protect him. She had to think of his well-being, had to put him first, since no one else did and he _deserved_ it, he'd earned it with his two centuries of duty and dedication and honesty and obedience and devotion and loyalty.

But then that glorious smile faded. 

"Why are you crying?" he asked quietly. His hand came up to cup her face, and his thumb swept the teardrops away.

Orihime rubbed her cheek into his palm in a kittenish motion, pressing his hand to her face with her own for just the briefest moment before stepping away to turn in a circle, her gaze directed skyward once more, following the moon.

"I'm not crying!" she said with a hard sniffle, swiping her sleeve over her cheeks to mop them dry, and forced a ditzy smile to her lips. "You just surprised me! I was beginning to wonder if you maybe didn't have any teeth, and that was why you never smile."

She hazarded a glance back at him; he was doing that tiny half-smile thing he did when he was amused in spite of himself. "Is it always nighttime here?" At his nod, she commented, "It's lovely. I never saw so many stars... where does the path lead?"

"Around the pond, past the tea house, around the far side of the pond, and back here. It is not a large circuit." For the first time, Byakuya felt that perhaps its modest size, which he'd always attributed to an appropriate level of the restraint that ruled him, was more an indication that he'd unnecessarily limited himself to a smaller life than he'd had to. He hearkened back to his daily routine, which hardly every varied: work, dinner, family business. Sleep. The occasional clan meeting. The odd attempt by power-hungry madmen to overtake Soul Society (now that he put some thought into it, he had to say that Aizen's war had, at the very least, livened up what he now had to admit was a damnably dull existence). 

No one had done that to him. No one had put his life on a leash and forced him to play by the rules. He had done that to _himself_. He had been a hellion, in his youth, hot-tempered and passionate, and he'd let the elders and their expectations choke it out of him until he was left with an inner world that might be exquisite, but it was small, and dark, and he had a sudden, shocking sensation of claustrophobia. In the back of his consciousness, he could feel Senbonzakura's alarm. 

"Let's return to your inner world," he found himself saying. 

Orihime blinked in surprise. "Really? You'd rather go somewhere so open and, and uncivilized and wild and bright? Because..." she looked around at the stifling perfection surrounding them, not seeing the cage that it had become for him.

"Yes," he said firmly. "I'd rather go there."

"Okay," she said, clearly dubious, but she plonked herself on the ground to enter _jinzen_ and return them to her daffodils and rolling hills. 

Byakuya shut his eyes, and the air was turning from the sultry night-blooming jasmine of his own inner world to the sunshiny green freshness of hers when he felt a jolt. Now Senbonzakura's alarm, unabated since Byakuya's declaration of wanting to leave, was joined by Orihime's as she realized that he was being pulled away. Byakuya sent a thought to Senbonzakura to remain calm, intended on telling Orihime not to worry...

Then he was blinking up into Rukia's concerned face as she shook his shoulder. "Nii-sama!" she exclaimed. "Are you alright? You wouldn't wake up!" Carefully, she detached his grip on Orihime's hand-- when had he transferred his grasp from her wrist?-- and knelt before him, anxiously searching his face for explanation. Byakuya looked past her to find his lieutenant, a dark-haired girl, and Kurosaki Ichigo standing in the doorway behind her. They were all wearing very brief, casual clothes and looked a little rumpled and sunburnt. 

"I'm sorry it took more than an hour, they were at the beach and it took me a while to find them." Rukia shot a death-glare over her shoulder at Renji. "And that idiot, instead of making them come here right away, decided to play volleyball with them instead." Renji had the grace to look sheepish. 

"It was only one game," he mumbled, coming forward to kneel beside Rukia. "You okay, Taichou? Is Orihime-chan alright?"

"She is fine," Byakuya replied automatically, his mind still reeling from its abrupt departure from their inner worlds. He felt a sense of loss that was hard to even countenance, let alone resign one's self to. "She has been training hard with her zanpakutou and was not aware of the extent of her illness, which we think is why her reiatsu is not replenishing as it ought. She said she would cease the training so we could heal her more efficiently."

A prolonged silence had him forcing his thoughts to clear; when he focused on them, he saw they were all staring at him.

"I was able to communicate with her while I was in _jinzen_." He did not wish to reveal that he had entered her inner world, nor she his. It was a privacy he wanted to keep for himself, and for Orihime. 

"You were donating for at least two hours," Rukia said slowly. "Are you sure you're not too depleted yourself, Nii-sama?"

Truth be told, he was feeling somewhat unsteady, and more than a little tired. How dear of Rukia to be so concerned. He touched his fingertips to her hand to reassure her. "It is nothing a good dinner and an early night will not cure," Byakuya replied, and was gratified when she brightened and smiled in relief. He shifted his gaze to Ichigo. 

"You have been instructed on how to donate?" Knowledge of Orihime's former affection for the boy, and how deeply his oblivion of it had cut her when that affection went unrequited, had Byakuya speak a bit more coolly than he might otherwise have done. 

Ichigo narrowed his eyes at Byakuya's chilly tone. "Yeah," he replied curtly, unfolding his arms and straightening from his slouch at the door. His brow, always creased in a perpetual scowl, frowned deeper when he knelt at Orihime's side and studied her wan face. He wrapped his long fingers around her wrist, shut his eyes, and his shoulders relaxed as he began to descend into her soul.

Byakuya knew the precise moment the other man encountered the ocean of love that dwelled within Orihime; Ichigo didn't speak, but he threw back his head and gasped, a breath hissing past lips parted in shock. 

"What was that?" the strange girl said. She was slim-built, rangy and athletic, with unruly dark hair falling almost to her waist. Her eyes were fierce and black, and her hands were clenched into deadly-looking little fists at her sides. 

"It was just Ichigo making contact with Orihime-chan's soul, Tatsuki-chan," murmured Rukia, confirming Byakuya's suspicion of the girl's identity. "The beauty of Orihime's soul is... very profound. The power of it can be surprising."

Tatsuki knelt by Ichigo, fists now resting on her knees as she stared at Orihime. "Renji didn't say how Orihime exhausted herself. I bet it was doing more than she should because she couldn't say no. Am I right?" Those black eyes were piercing as they fixed on Rukia. "Why do you look all shifty and dishonest now, Rukia? What's going on?"

Byakuya frowned and studied his sister; she _did_ look shifty and dishonest. "Rukia."

Her eyes, that odd shade of dark blue that was almost violet, were huge and worried as they met his. "It's... it's not something I can share with anyone."

"Does it have to do with that day we came home and found you both crying your eyes out?" asked Renji, looking annoyed but helpless when she nodded in response.

"Orihime-san said she could not reveal your private matter," Byakuya said, "and now you are saying you cannot reveal hers." He knew he sounded irritated, and that was because he _was_ irritated. He did not like secrets being kept from him, and when it was something that made his sister weep, and caused Orihime to work herself into a near-coma... 

"Please, Nii-sama," Rukia whispered, twisting the hem of her kosode into mangled knots in her dismay. "If Orihime-chan hasn't told her, I can't break her confidence. I'm not even sure she knows _I_ know. In fact, I'm pretty sure she doesn't. It's something she's keeping to herself, right now, and if that's how she wants it... it would not be honorable to break her confidence."

"Even if it gets her as sick as this?" Tatsuki demanded. "She could have wrecked her abilities! Become a, whatsit, non-shinigami person--"

"Plus soul," Byakuya murmured.

"--Yeah, that," she continued angrily, "and that would have made her really upset!"

"The repercussions of her... secret... being known would have been more upsetting to her!" Rukia snapped back, her own tone growing so frosty that Byakuya felt a pang of pride at how haughty she sounded. "You do not know the full extent of how things are done here, or the obligations we are under! Do not presume to understand how a matter might have been handled better!"

"Shut up, both of you, or get the fuck out," Ichigo growled, eyes still shut tight. "This shit isn't easy, and if I slip because you distracted me, I could hurt her."

Both women immediately clapped their mouths shut and sat back, chastened. 

Equilibrium had returned to Byakuya, and loath as he was to part from Orihime, he knew he had to eat and rest in order to restore himself to full strength again, for he fully intended to donate to her again the next day. As he stood, leg muscles protesting from sitting in the same position for so long, Rukia made a sound of impatience.

"Ichigo, you forgot about Urahara-san's... thingy."

Any 'thingy' of Urahara Kisuke's was worrysome at best, and outright dangerous at worst. Byakuya turned back with an imperious eyebrow aloft.

"Urahara-san gave us a device that he said would help Orihime-chan's reiatsu recover much more quickly," Rukia explained with haste, and held up a chunky, tasteless gold ring. "He promised it wouldn't hurt her in the least, and that after three days of people wearing it while donating, she would be awake and as healthy as if she's been resting for a month."

Rukia plunked the ugly ring in Tatsuki's outstretched free hand; she jammed it on his middle finger, forcing it past his bony knuckle until it was seated properly; he carefully switched hands so there was no gap between Orihime's receipt of his reiatsu. The ring flared once, the black light that Byakuya recognized as Ichigo's particular power signature flashing briefly before winking out. 

"Huh," said Ichigo, "I don't feel a thing."

"Urahara-san said you wouldn't, didn't he?" Rukia asked with a hint of acid. "Well, Unohana-taichou said we can only donate for an hour at a time. My apologies again, Nii-sama, for our tardiness in returning. You should not have gone for two hours." She sketched a shallow bow at Byakuya, who acknowledged it with a nod of forgiveness. "So after Ichigo is done, Renji can go."

"After a little rest, maybe some food, I can go again in a few hours," Ichigo said. "I've got plenty, haven't used it in ages."

"Those Vaizard people said they would come donate, too," added Tatsuki, "and that seemed like a sacrifice to them."

"It is," Renji told her. "More than you know."

"I will start rounding up others who will donate as well," said Rukia. "I'll hit Tenth Division first, then maybe the Thirteenth--"

"Hanatarou," muttered Ichigo. 

"Ah, yes, he'll certainly want to donate," Rukia agreed, "then... well, I'll just go to all of them, I guess. Nii-sama, I ordered dinner for you at your convenience."

_So thoughtful._ He was fortunate to have such a sister. "I will go eat while it is hot, then," he said, and left the room. 

His meal, taken alone in the dining chamber, was a nourishing but flavorless affair. Byakuya tasted none of it, his mind preoccupied with Rukia's refusal to discuss whatever it was that had her and Orihime so distraught. _Priorities_ , he reminded himself, leaving the table for his bedroom. After this crisis was averted, there would be time to investigate and solve whatever problem they faced.


	17. Chapter 17

Over the next three days and nights, the Kuchiki estate was the place to be: a hub where various shinigami came and went as they  volunteered to donate reiatsu to that nice girl who could bring people back to life. To no one's surprise, Rukia had met with no refusals from anyone she asked for help, and in fact had to turn most of them away as all the slots on her sign-up sheet had filled up after a single pass around the various Gotei divisions.

She was judicious in who she permitted to sign up. Kenpachi's gruff offer was appreciated but rejected, as was Kurotsuchi Mayuri's suggestion that donating would give him a rare opportunity to study someone's soul from the inside. Everyone wore the ring, and Unohana declared it successful when Orihime's condition improved with far more speed than the healer would have expected.

Tatsuki wanted to donate, but it was unknown how the reiatsu of a living person would interact with that of a deceased soul such as Orihime's, plus Unohana worried that since her reiryoku was not large to begin with, Tatsuki might be putting herself into danger by donating any of it. So Tatsuki grudgingly agreed to go home and return after the three days was up. Besides, Uryuu, Chad, the Vaizard, and Urahara's group were all clamoring for an update.

Everyone reported feeling that same amazing, comfortable, enveloping love as they sank into Orihime's soul. Not one of them mentioned entering her inner world. For that, Byakuya was thankful. Not only because he was a greedy man and did not want anyone else to share that experience, but because it had been hard enough for Orihime that he had been there. 

He had some strong suspicions, by this point, that Orihime held him in some esteem and hosting him within her inner world had not dismayed her, but the mere presence of another within her purest essence could not have been comfortable for her, especially that of those who knew her with far less intimacy than did Byakuya and her closer friends.

He had taken scrupulous care to not lose track of himself, enter _jinzen_ , or do anything else that might cause him to slip into Orihime's inner world again. Violating her most private place had been regrettable the first time, even by accident; doing so again, on purpose, would be unforgivable. He did keenly miss her company, however, and relished his hours of donation, when he could sit in her room with her.

Unohana came by daily, recording Orihime's vital signs and measuring both reiryoku and reiatsu. As the former grew, so did the latter, and thus it was toward the end of the third day of donations that Byakuya's sense of Orihime, fine-tuned even more exquisitely since her soul had permeated him while in her inner world, perceived with ease how her reiatsu flared before settling down, as it did when a person awoke or became conscious.

They had been having dinner. Hirako Shinji had finished his donation not long before, and had joined Byakuya, Rukia, and Renji for the meal while his lieutenant, Momo, was with Orihime. Byakuya laid down his chopsticks, passed the napkin over his lips, and said, "Rukia, be so kind as to send a butterfly to Unohana-taichou. Her patient is awake."

He ignored Hirako's eyebrows, elevated in surprise and amusement; only stood and went to Orihime's chamber with Rukia on his heels. She shouted back to Renji to send the butterfly. When he slid back the fusuma door, Momo was assisting Orihime to sit up and piling fluffy Western-style pillows behind her. Orihime lifted her eyes to Byakuya's, and smiled.

_She was back._ She was back, and well, and safe, and so great was his relief that he forgot himself-- just for a moment-- and smiled back. They beamed, somewhat witlessly it must be admitted, at each other for several seconds until Momo broke the peaceful silence of the moment by appearing to choke on her tongue.

"Momo-chan!" exclaimed Orihime, reaching by instinct for the other woman.

"It's fine," Momo managed. "Orihime-chan," she whispered in an aside, "Kuchiki-taichou was _smiling_." She stared in frank disbelief at Byakuya, who had recovered himself and was blank-faced as usual once more.

Orihime glanced up at him; the glint in his silvery eyes told her that he'd heard in spite of Momo's attempt to be surreptitious. "Oh, surely not," she murmured, unable to prevent a tiny grin. "Kuchiki-taichou doesn't do that. You must have imagined it."

"Orihime-chan!" Rukia edged past her brother to launch herself at her friend, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "If you ever do that again," she sniffled into Orihime's shoulder, "I will make you sorry."

"Don't doubt her," drawled Renji, elbowing Byakuya 'by accident' so he'd move and let his lieutenant in the room. "She knows ways of making people miserable that haven't even been invented yet."

"I will do everything I can to not die again," Orihime laughed, hugging Rukia back, gazing over her head at her brother. "Byakuya-sama, are you okay? I was worried when you pulled away so suddenly."

"It was due to Rukia waking me up," he replied. He scrutinized her, looking for any sign of illness, but she was radiant, looking fresh and well-rested, her reiatsu plentiful and healthy. "I am well, thank you."

In the distance, the estate gong announced the arrival of a visitor.

"There are so many people here already," said Orihime, "are you having a party?"

Shinji slid into the room. "Yes, and you're the guest of honor," he told her. "That's Unohana-taichou, come to examine you." He plunked down onto the floor beside her futon and slung a companionable arm around her shoulders. "Glad you're back, Orihime-chan, we were all worried about ya. Maybe don't do that again?" 

He aimed his creepy smile up at Byakuya, the picture of innocence. Byakuya envisioned himself puréeing the other captain into a protein shake with Senbonzakura and comforted himself with the fact that Orihime was visibly confused and had been trying to inch out from under Shinji's arm the entire time.

"Ahaha, Shinji-kun," said Orihime, "I won't." She succeeded in extricating herself from him and leaned back against the pillows, aiming a tiny grin at Byakuya, which he returned by blinking at her, knowing she'd give it a correct interpretation.

Unohana entered, shown in by a servant who made herself scarce, and bowed to the occupants of the room. "I am glad to see Inoue-san awake again," she said. "If I could examine you in private?"

Rukia was up like a shot, herding everyone out before her. Momo had to be enlisted to get Shinji to leave, insisting they'd overstayed their welcome and had to return to the Fifth. Orihime exchanged a last, lingering glance with Byakuya, admiring the straight line of his back and the width of his shoulders once he turned away to leave.

Once they were alone, Unohana began taking measurements of Orihime's vitals. "You doubtless can feel the presence of the reiatsu of the various people who donated to you," she said as she worked.

"Yes," Orihime replied. "It's a little weird, but at the same time, it makes me feel so lucky, because I didn't know so many people liked me enough to help in that way. I can understand kind people doing it, even if they are really strangers, like Komamura-taichou, but Soi-Fong-taichou? I was under the impression she didn't care for me."

"To be honest, Soi-Fong-taichou does not like many people," Unohana said with a demure smile. "But she knows what an asset you will be to the Gotei. She is very practical." She busied herself with putting away her instruments, then turned back to Orihime and folded her hands in her lap. "Speaking of which... I would like to offer you a position within my division."

Orihime's eyes widened almost comically in surprise. "What? Yes! Wait. Why? Yes!"

Unohana patted her hand. "I am aware of your expertise in psychiatry, and think that would be an excellent addition to our medical services. Your healing ability are unique, as well-- you can accomplish what no one else, not even myself, is able to, and it would be irresponsible of me to not want to secure that ability." She gave Orihime's hand another motherly pat. "I also believe that my division would best suit you, though you would most likely also thrive in Ukitake-taichou's, Otouribashi-taichou's, Hitsugaya-taichou's, or Komamura-taichou's divisions.

"And of course you are free to approach them. I have no doubt they would all give you a warm welcome. I would not recommend you apply to anyone else's division, however. Yamamoto-soutaichou, Soi-Fong-taichou, and Muguruma-taichou are too abrasive for your temperament, Hirako-taichou and Kyouraku-taichou would pursue you more than you would be comfortable with, and Zaraki-taichou and Kurotsuchi-taichou would be too disturbing."

She paused, then continued with delicacy, "I would not suggest Kuchiki-taichou's division, for fear of there being a conflict of interest." She did not hold Orihime's gaze for more than a moment, but it was long enough for Orihime to see that she had observed that there was a bond between herself and Byakuya. A streak of fear lanced through her belly. If anyone told the elders, or worse, if Byakuya himself decided to say anything--

"Unohana-taichou," she said, urgency coloring her voice, "if I may beg a kindness of you, please do not mention that to anyone." She bent forward in as subservient a bow as she could manage, sitting in bed as she was. When she straightened, it was to find Unohana studying her. "Please. It's very important."

Unohana nodded slowly. "It seems that you will not be acting on it. For that I am sorry; I am fond of Kuchiki-taichou and have become fond of you, as well, and would wish you happiness with each other. I will not speak of it again, to you or anyone else."

Orihime gave another low bow. "Thank you."

"But I will say that if you do wish to keep secret your feelings for him, you need to find a way to keep from displaying your thoughts," Unohana continued, not unkindly. "Your face is very expressive; it hides nothing."

Orihime just stared at her in alarm, brain a-whirl with frantic ideas for how to remedy the situation. The first, least helpful one was to run away and never be heard from again. _But that would be more denial and avoidance,_ she thought, _and that's what I just spent three days fighting with Tsubaki over. I have to find another way. Later._

With a deep breath to calm herself, she gave Unohana a nod. "I understand. Thank you. I will work on it."

Unohana gave a nod herself, of approval. "Now, as to the position in my division... I would ordinarily have to test you, but since I have witnesses your healing talents many times before, I think we can do away with that. I would like to offer you seventh seat while you hone your kidou healing techniques; once you have polished them to my satisfaction, I will promote you to fourth seat. Would that be acceptable?"

"Yes! Completely! Wow!" Orihime was delighted, as thrilled as the day she'd been accepted to medical school. "When do I start?"

"You need to rest several more days," said Unohana, "so let us say in one week."

"Oh! But I feel fine!" exclaimed Orihime, pumping a fist into the air and even pulling up her yukata sleeve to show her (admittedly rather puny) bicep. "Wasabi power!"

Unohana blinked; it was not the 'I'm amused but won't laugh' blink Byakuya gave her, but more of a 'that's odd but I won't say so' blink. "Indeed," she murmured, "but usually your illness would have required at least a month of recovery; it is only due to Urahara-san's device that you are awake at this moment. Without it, you would be comatose for another 10 days at a minimum, and then bed-ridden for two weeks after that, or more. So I entreat you to rest and eat well, and refrain from tiring yourself, for the next week. It's better safe than sorry, I believe the saying is?"

"Oh, but--"

"Inoue-san, it is better safe than sorry, yes?" Unohana repeated, _very_ sweetly. There was a hint of doom underlying the words, and Orihime felt like she'd been deposited into a game of Russian roulette, where there was only a single correct answer.

"Absolutely. Yes. One hundred percent exactly," she yammered. "One week's rest, coming right up!"

Unohana's smiled sweetened further, and she gave Orihime's hand a third pat. "Excellent, my dear. I will send a shihakusho over in the morning, and have your quarters prepared, as well as an office for you to meet with your patients. You will be exempt from cleaning duties because of your psychiatric appointments, but once you achieve fourth seat, you will still be expected to make rounds every morning with the rest of us seated fifth seat and higher, and to leave off your private appointments to heal if there is an emergency. I trust that is all agreeable to you?"

"Yes!" Orihime agreed, this time not needing the threat of annihilation; that was all mostly what she was used to from medical school.

Unohana rose to her feet in a smooth surge. "Then I pronounce you well enough to be up and about-- with caution-- and to report in one week's time to Fourth Division for your first day."

"I will! And I will! Thank you!"

They bowed to each other and Unohana glided from the room; Orihime could hear her speaking with Byakuya out in the hallway.

Rukia slid in and plopped on the floor beside her while Renji slouched against the doorjamb. "So?" she demanded, her face lit with a smile. "So? So?"

"She said I can get up and go places as long as I don't tire myself out," Orihime informed her, then couldn't stop herself from squealing a little as she continued in a rush, "so I'm well rested for when I start as her seventh seat next week!"

Rukia squealed, too, much to Renji's chagrin and abused eardrums, and gave her a bone-crushing hug.

"I had a feeling," Renji said with his trademark grin. "Congratulations."

"Indeed," said Byakuya, joining them now that Unohana had taken her leave. "Though I am surprised that she only awarded you seventh seat, given your advanced skill set."

He looked a little offended. On her behalf? _How cute,_ Orihime cooed on the inside, even as she scolded herself. _No, no, no, no, no,_ she thought with severity. _This has to be a no-coo zone; I do not find him cute, or attractive, or wonderful or lovable in any way. No. I do not._ It was not even a little believable. Orihime felt depressed.

"Well, yes, as to that," Orihime replied, "it seems my kidou healing is not all it could be. Once I get better at that, she'll promote me. I'll have to practice a lot. But I'll be careful and not wear myself out!" she added quickly, when Rukia opened her mouth to deliver a scalding admonition of dire consequences. "But maybe I should move into my quarters, there, so I'll have more time to practice and be closer if I'm needed."

Rukia's face fell; Byakuya's remained blank, but his eyes were on hers. She tore hers away, determined not to add fuel to that fire. It had no need of fuel. It had enough to go on for a century or two at least.

"Oh," said Rukia, her voice small and her eyes on where she was twisting her fingers into knots in her lap. "I'll miss you very much. I've gotten used to having you here, it's so nice to have dinner and spend the evening together." She raised her gaze. "I've really come to think of you as a sister."

Orihime met her eyes for a long, emotionally charged moment. She was going to have to confide in Rukia her feelings for Byakuya, wasn't she? And how she had to leave, if she were to protect him from being deposed by the clan elders. At the same time, she was aware that Renji and Byakuya were watching them with the same worried, confused expressions they'd had the day they'd come home to find the girls crying so hard.

"I'll... decide later," she said at last, resigned and feeling a sudden, shocking rush of fatigue. "Right now, I think I'd like to sleep some more."

The sadness on Rukia's face melted away. "More sleep?" she teased, her quick smile lighting up once more. "You lay-abed, you're spoiled already!"

Orihime forced a laugh. "Guilty! I want breakfast in bed tomorrow morning, too."

Rukia stood and gave her a bow worthy of a queen. "I'll bring it myself!"

"And don't skimp on the fresh flowers! I want roses!" Orihime called after her as she left the bedroom, Renji in tow. Rukia's answer was a deliberately dismissive wave without turning to look at her, which had Orihime giving a real laugh.

That left her with Byakuya, and the air seemed to become charged with electricity. Orihime's laughter faded and she ducked her head to scrutinize the silk quilt on her lap, fingers tracing the intricate whorls of embroidery. _This is agony,_ she thought. His smile seemed permanently etched into her brain. She wanted him so much that it was like a hunger that could not be slaked.

So fine-tuned was she to him, so alert to his movements, that she could hear him draw breath in preparation to speak. She rushed to say, "I know it's early, but I'm more tired than I realized, Byakuya-sama, so I'm going to go to sleep now! Thank you so much for everything." She forced a smile that she prayed looked genuine; in reality, she wanted nothing more than burst into tears.

The moment stretched on; Byakuya studied her with deep, searching eyes that seemed to see straight through to her soul and Orihime felt her smile begin to crack at the edges even as certain parts of her threatened to burst into flame.

"Of course," he said at last, and Orihime felt profound relief. "Sleep well. I will see you at breakfast."

Orihime nodded. "Sleep well, Byakuya-sama," she said softly.

He stepped back to close the fusuma, but did not avert his gaze from hers, so they shared one long, electric, _aching_ glance-- oh, why was she imagining him joining her for bed, instead of only heading to the solitary futon and chilly sheets that awaited him in his own room?-- stupid, hopeless, hopeful heart--  as the slow slide of the fusuma hid him from her view.

Orihime flopped backward and pulled one of the pillows over her face, wishing she could smother herself with it. She was not going to be able to remain here for the week until she began work and could move into her quarters in the Fourth's barracks, not if Byakuya was going to _smolder_ at her like that the whole time. She was only human-- shinigami-- _whatever_ she was, and she had limits to what she could endure before she lost her mind and ripped his hakama off. _Damn the torpedoes,_ her libido would say, _full steam ahead!_ It would end in disaster.

She'd go stay with Tatsuki in the Living World, spend time with her human friends, prepare herself for a life without him. Get used to seeing him around, on the periphery of her life but never the center of it as she longed for him to be. She'd find other things to replace the little life she'd built here at the Kuchiki estate, with the Kuchiki siblings. Eventually she'd put them behind her and she'd build another little life for herself. Maybe, in a few years, when she was able to look at Byakuya without a pang of thwarted longing, she'd start dating someone else. Maybe Hisagi Shuuhei; hadn't she had a tiny crush on him when she'd first died, before she'd seen Byakuya and everyone else had faded into the background? 

The idea depressed her even further. And she couldn't breathe with the pillow on her face. She pushed it off and stared, listless, at the shoji screen, behind which the sun was fading for the day and the air was sweetening as it cooled. Soon it would be night. Orihime felt a sense of resignation, of unavoidable hardship to come, and sighed.

She hadn't even gotten to tell anyone about her bankai.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is "Your Surrender" by Neon Trees, from which I got the title of this entire story. In particular, the lines  
> "I've become your shadow  
> I'd love, but don't know how to  
> I'm always lost for words  
> You look like a thousand suns  
> I wanna be the only one  
> Left when your day is done"

  
Rukia did bring Orihime breakfast in bed the next morning, and there were so many roses on the tray that Orihime stuck some in her hair, stuck some in Rukia's hair, poked the stem of one particularly large pink rose down her cleavage, and had plenty left to toss into the air so they showered down around the girls in chaotic color.

"I have a lot of thank-you cards to write, don't I?" she mumbled around a mouthful of rice. "Or should I bake cookies for everyone who was so nice to donate? Oooh, I thought up this recipe for double fudge garlic brownies, with artichoke frosting, the other day--"

" _No_ ," Rukia said in a resolute tone, trying to keep the horror out of her voice.  Anyone eating such a monstrosity would be shitting in a bag for a week afterward. "Absolutely not."

"Oh, but--"

"Everyone was very happy to help you, and would not want you to make a big fuss out of it." Rukia gave what she hoped was a convincing smile. "If you feel you must thank them, just say a few words of appreciation the next time you see them."

Orihime nodded. "If you're sure..."

Rukia was quite sure. The likely reactions of anyone foolish enough to eat such briquets of evil would hurt Orihime's feelings. It was best to avoid the situation altogether.

"Say, Rukia-chan," Orihime began timidly, her finger tracing the edge of the now-empty plate. "I really don't want to upset you, you know that, but I think I have to move into my quarters at the Fourth Division once I start there next week." She lifted her eyes to find Rukia watching her, looking sad but unsurprised. "You know why, don't you?"

Rukia sighed. "Yes," she said. "At least I think so. It's because of Nii-sama, isn't it?"

A blush scalded up Orihime's neck to suffuse her face. "Yes," she whispered. It was the first time she'd admitted it to anyone else. "I don't know how he feels about me--" here, Rukia snorted in a most unladylike manner "--but I know that I, um, care about him. I think it will be easier for both of us if we stop it here before it's too late."

"You sickened because you were trying to stay away, and pushed yourself too hard, yes?" At Orihime's miserable nod, she continued, "While you were unconscious, Nii-sama... you didn't see his face, Orihime-chan. I think it's already too late."

"But it's not, Rukia-chan!" Orihime protested, feeling a bit desperate. "So far, neither of us has done anything the elders would have a problem with. That's why I have to go now. Before something does happen, something the elders would learn about. I don't know how much more time I have before... before he does or says something about it. I think it might be soon. Then I would have to reject him." Tears gathered in her eyes. "I don't want to hurt him like that, Rukia-chan. It'll hurt less if it's stopped before it comes to that point, won't it?"

"Is there no way around this?" Rukia said bleakly. "I can't believe that there's no solution... no way you can be together without his deposition as clan leader."

"If you can think of one, let me know! I'm all ears!" Orihime tried to make it a joke but her sniffling and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve rather ruined the effect.

Rukia rose from kneeling beside the futon slowly, as if she were very old and had the weight of the world on her shoulders. "Well, let me help you pack before I go off to work. A whole week's visit, you say? That should be fun. " She offered a watery smile that was in no way convincing. They packed in near-silence. Orihime dressed, and Rukia accompanied her to the senkaimon. With a hug, they separated, Orihime stepped through the dimensional shouji screen, and was gone.

Rukia was subdued at work, aware that Ukitake was watching her in puzzlement. When she arrived home, it was to find her brother and Renji had left work early and were seated around the low table in the customary evening chamber, heads bent over a shiny circular object.

"You need a CD player for it, Taichou," Renji was saying. It was clear he was proud to know something his captain did not. "It doesn't work without one."

Both looked up at Rukia's entrance.

"Rukia," said her beloved Nii-sama, "do you have a device appropriate to make this item play its music?"

"Orihime-chan does," she replied. "I don't think she'd mind if we used it." She went to her friend's room and found that while Orihime had dressed, she had also packed up most of her belongings. It was clear that she would be leaving as soon as was possible, upon her return from the Living World. Rukia's heart ached for her and Byakuya both.

Upon her return to the evening room, she showed her brother how to insert and play the disc; languid piano music filled the air, refined and tranquil, and a tiny smile curled Byakuya's lips. Not the little smirk Rukia had seen when he was enjoying one of Renji's mishaps, but a by-god actual smile of pleasure. The sadness she felt for him and her friend intensified; Renji gave her hand a tug so she relaxed from her tense kneeling by Byakuya to sit closer to him.

"Let him listen to this alone," Renji whispered. She beamed at him; really, he was far more perceptive than most people realized.

"Nii-sama, Renji and I are going to have a walk until dinner is ready."

Byakuya barely acknowledged she'd said anything, just lifted a dismissive hand. He reread the paper that came in the disc's case: jazz piano. He did not know what 'jazz' was. The music was elegant and smooth, lacking any hard edges or jarring stops and starts like some modern music he'd had the misfortune to hear. It was, in short, exactly to his taste, and his pleasure that Orihime had understood that had no bounds. He missed her keenly already, and hoped she would soon become tired of the Living World and return to him. It was starting to become an actual hardship to be without her, a lack he felt like a physical ache.

That song ended, and the next began, just as lovely as the first. Byakuya permitted himself, in his solitude, a fuller smile. She would be back soon. Everything would be fine then.

* * *

  
Orihime waited until the shoji doors had slid closed behind her, then tamped down on her reiatsu until it was undetectable by anyone else before continuing on. Once emerging on the far side, she made her way to Urahara's shop, intent on borrowing the gigai again.

Certainly he noticed the stranglehold on her reiatsu, but didn't say a word. He was only too delighted to let her have the gigai. This time, it was dressed in a replica of the outfit worn by Julia Roberts in **Pretty Woman** : streetwalker dress, thigh-high boots and all. The blonde hair had been styled into a sleek pageboy, and the mouth wore fire engine red lipstick. Orihime wondered, briefly, about Urahara going around to various stores to buy the different components of the outfit. She pictured him wrangling them onto the limp, lifeless thing before forcing the images out of her mind, for the sake of her sanity.

"I brought plenty of more comfortable clothes, this time, Urahara-san," Orihime demurred with a big smile. She dragged the gigai into the bathroom before stepping into it, then changing into her own jeans and sneakers. She was stuck with the B-cup bra the gigai had been wearing: white satin with black lace, and by far the raciest underwear she'd ever worn. She was thankful it didn't show through the yellow cotton of her t-shirt. She wiped off the lipstick, wet her hair and pilfered some of Jinta's gel to muss up the pageboy, and felt far more ready to face the world.

Urahara's face fell when she stepped from the bathroom looking as innocuous and non-Julia Roberts-like as possible.

"Thanks, Urahara-san!" she called, practically sprinting out the door, pausing only long enough to snatch up her duffel bag. She made her way to Tatuki's dojo, where her friend was just finishing up for the day.

"I'll see if I can pawn off some of my classes on the other instructors so we can, I don't know, go to Space World or something one day," said Tatsuki.

But she wasn't able to get anyone to take her classes until the end of the week, which meant Orihime spent two days in the apartment by herself. She passed them by cleaning, rearranging the drawers and closets (much to Tatsuki's consternation), and watching terrible TV shows. Then her bored twiddling of the radio dial found a station that seemed to cater exclusively to women in the grip of romantic strife. It played nothing but sappy, anguished love songs that suited Orihime so well she spent another two days doing nothing but languishing on the smelly old couch, a throw pillow over her face, brooding about her situation with Byakuya.

When Tatsuki came home on the fourth afternoon, Orihime said, "We need more batteries. I used them all up listening to the radio," her voice muffled by the pillow, which she had not taken off before speaking.

"I'm not buying you batteries so you can continue to die on the vine, dummy," Tatsuki said mildly, kicking off her shoes.

"I'm not on a vine, I'm on the couch," was Orihime's smothered reply. "Still might be dying, though."

"Again?" asked a masculine voice, sounding amused. "Isn't it getting a bit boring by now?"

Orihime whipped off the pillow to find Uryuu standing there. "Uryuu-kuuuuun!" she exclaimed and flew up to pitch herself at him. "Why are you here? Not that I mind! But why are you here?" Her head pivoted back and forth between her friends in confusion.

"I asked him to come talk some sense into you," replied Tatsuki from the kitchen. "This is getting ridiculous. If I have to listen to one more Sarah McLachlin song of tragic love, I'm going to set fire to this entire building."

"Get into your gigai, let's take a walk to the park," Uryuu directed. He nodded toward where the girls had deposited the gigai in the corner under a blanket.

Orihime got herself rigged into the gigai and gave its blonde hair a fluff. "I'm sorry to be such a pain, Tatsuki-chan," she apologized as she fought the gigai's flailing arms into fitting over her own.

Tatsuki, in the middle of a long pull on a can of soda, just waved them off. "S'fine," she said, snatching up the TV remote and starting to click through. "Let me know if you'll be home for dinner."

"Now, are you going to tell me what's gone so wrong?" he pressed gently once they reached the park swings and had claimed one for each of them.

She sighed and let her feet drag in the dirt, raking trails as the swing moved back and forth. "It's my usual-- a hopeless love situation."

"Being separated from Kurosaki for this long hasn't helped at all?" he asked with sympathy.

Orihime looked startled. "Oh! Um. Well." She blushed a little. "It helped a lot, actually. A _lot_ , a lot. Because it's not him I'm in love with."

Now it was Uryuu's turn to look startled. "You're over him at last? And in love with another man?" He frowned in confusion. "But if you weren't hiding your reiatsu to stay away from Kurosaki, why were you doing it?"

"Because I didn't want to deal with too much fuss right away, not after last week. I've been feeling kind of heartsore, and not really up to a lot of excitement. And you know that if I'd told everyone I was back again, they'd want to go out drinking and everything and I'm just too sad and tired for it right now."

Uryuu peered at her through his spectacles. "If you're in love-- not with Kurosaki-- why are you so down, then? I'd think you'd be dancing on clouds."

Orihime heaved a sigh and launched into the whole dismal tale. When she had finished, Uryuu stared in silence for a long moment.

"Well," he said, dumbfounded.

"Exactly." She toed the dirt some more, feeling glum.

His cell phone rang, then; he looked relieved to have the distraction. "Ah, Kurosaki," he said to the caller. "Tonight? Sure. Oh, Orihime-san is here."

Her head flew up and she began waving her arms and mouthing, "No! No!"

"She just arrived this afternoon," Uryuu lied. "Oh, her reiatsu? Best to let her tell it." And he handled the phone to her with an angelically innocent smile.

Orihime shot him an irritated glance and took the phone with great trepidation, as if it were going to bite her. "Hi, Kurosaki-kun!" she said, infusing her voice with as much cheer as possible. "I'm suppressing it to, uh, practice! See how good I can get at controlling it more carefully! I was wondering if I could do it well enough to keep you from sensing me. I guess I can! Ahaha!"

Her lighthearted banter was wearing thin, and the next glance she shot Uryuu was more of a glower. "Pizza, tonight, your house, everyone else. That sounds... great!" She hoped he hadn't noticed the pause. "Yes, be there soon!"

After ending the call, she handed the phone back to Uryuu and fixed him with a hangdog expression. "Thanks for that."

He was completely unburdened by any sense of remorse. "You stew over things too much, get depressed, and make bad decisions," he replied bluntly. "You've had four days of pining away for Kuchiki-sama--" here, he seemed to marvel at the situation again "--and it's now time to move forward with your life. Starting this very moment. And you might as well release your reiatsu; everyone knows you're here now."

Uryuu stood and pulled Orihime off the swing, tugging her reluctant body after him in the direction of the Kurosaki household while she grumbled. It did feel much better to not be stifling her reiatsu, however, though she wouldn't be admitting it to him any time soon.

Almost halfway there, both of them stiffened in surprise and no small amount of alarm to feel the sudden, unsettling sensation of a very, very powerful Hollow. It was familiar to Orihime; where had she felt it before--?

"Grimmjow," she gasped when he blurred to a stop half a block down the street from them.

"Not again," Uryuu muttered. In his right hand, his Quincy bow formed and he began to nock an arrow.

" _Again_?" Orihime said, gaping as her gaze swung, pendulum-like, between her friend and the Espada.

His piercing aqua gaze fixed on them-- on Orihime in particular-- and he shot them one of his trademark feral grins before _sonido_ had him stopping right in front of her. "Huh," Grimjow said, staring at her gigai's flatter chest as comprehension dawned on his face.

Orihime sent a mental command to her fairies to form Santen Kesshun just as Uryuu loosed his arrow, and its power was absorbed uselessly into the shield.

Grimmjow gave her a jaunty salute through the golden barrier, and disappeared.

"Ugh, sorry," she apologized to Uryuu. Almost at the same second, Ichigo flash-stepped to their location.

"What the hell is Grimmjow doing here again?" he demanded.

"What do you mean, again?" Orihime wailed. "Someone tell me something!"

"Grimmjow has been showing up about once a week for the past few months," Uryuu informed her, his blue eyes scanning the distance, tracking the Espada's movements.

"Sometimes he hides his reiatsu, too--" here, Ichigo ran a bemused glance over her, and she knew he hadn't bought her lame excuse for why she'd hidden her own "--but he doesn't try anything, just shows up and then leaves, like this time. Urahara says he doesn't know what Grimmjow's up to but is tracking the visits to see if he can figure something out." 

 

He scowled at the world in general as Grimmjow's unique power signature cut off as suddenly as it had appeared. "Well, whatever. He's gone now. Everyone else is at my place already. The pizza will arrive soon."

"We'll be there right away," promised Uryuu.

With a nod, Ichigo launched himself skyward. Orihime and Uryuu exchanged a glance, then resumed walking toward the Kurosaki home. She was consumed with wondering what Grimmjow was up to; his behavior just now was weird, even for him.

Then they arrived at Ichigo's, and his sisters and crazy father were hugging her and directing them upstairs to Ichigo's room where he, Tatsuki, Mizuiro, and Chizuru had already arrived; Chad would come after he'd closed his music shop. More welcome hugs were exchanged while the doorbell rang downstairs, and then Yuzu and Karin entered the room bearing boxes of pizza. Ichigo slammed the door in his father's hopeful face and ignored that good man's exclamations of rejection.

"Eat up!" said Yuzu, passing slices around on paper plates, and they all dug in.

* * *

  
After a few days of Orihime's absence, Byakuya was once more experiencing that same I-can't-get-comfortable feeling he'd had the night Orihime had collapsed on that Rukongai rooftop. She was likely fine, but what if she were not? Many things could happen in the Living World. He'd allayed his misgivings the first day or two by listening to that "jazz piano" music and letting it, and thoughts of her, soothe him, but on the fourth evening he was feeling positively jittery, and don't think for a minute that that did not gall him to the depth of his being.

The feeling of unease increased steadily throughout dinner with Rukia and Renji and their customary walk through one of the estate's many gardens. Once the other two separated for a more private perambulation through the more romantic promenade garden, Byakuya took himself to the zen garden. He tried to find peace in the stones stacked with picturesque care, the exquisitely raked sand, and the periodic plunk of the shishi-odoshi when the hollow bamboo tilted and spilled its water out.

But the stones were boring, the parallel lines of the sand made his eyes hurt in the dimming light, and each time the damned shishi-odoshi plunked he wanted to rip it from the ground and fling it over the estate wall. He stood and strode to the Kuchikis' personal Senkaimon, intent on finding Orihime wherever she was in the Living World.

He was almost there when Rukia flash-stepped to a halt beside him. "Nii-sama," she said with a smile, "I'm worried about how Orihime-chan is doing, so soon after her illness. Shall I go see? I'll come back as soon as I know she is well."

Byakuya knew what she was doing; her guileless expression fooled no one. He would not change his mind. "I will accompany you," he informed her, continuing as her eyes rounded in surprise and, if he were not incorrect (which was unlikely), alarm. "I have long wondered what Karakura Town is like when not being demolished by Aizen and his minions."

Rukia opened her mouth as if to try to dissuade him, then gave up; she was not a stupid woman. "Yes, Nii-sama," she said, sounding resigned, and opened the senkaimon; their butterflies fluttered out, and they stepped through.

* * *

  
The gathering was well underway and the pizza almost gone when, all at once, Orihime, Ichigo, and Uryuu stiffened. Orihime gasped, looking alarmed.

  
"Rukia?" said Ichigo with his usual scowl.

" _Shit_ ," Orihime said with feeling, and began rummaging in her pockets. They all shot her an amazed glance; Orihime _never_ cussed.

"And--" Uryuu said, a frown coming to his own lips.

Orihime pulled something out and slapped it against her forehead. The moment her soul sprang free of her gigai, she flash-stepped out of the apartment. In almost the same moment, everyone's sense of her faded.

"Is she hiding her reiatsu again?" demanded Tatsuki. "Why this time?"

"I recognize Rukia-san," commented Mizuiro, "but there's another, isn't there? She didn't come alone."

"Very good, Mizuiro-san," said Rukia herself, as she appeared in Ichigo's open window. Downstairs, the doorbell sounded, and she said, a trifle defensively, "He refused to come in the window."

"I would expect no less," Ichigo shot back, smirking.

Isshin's bass rumble sounded surprised as he answered the door. Footsteps on the stairs, and then Byakuya stepped into the room. Tatsuki had, in the interim between seeing him for the first time a week ago and this moment, somehow not recalled the full extent of his handsomeness.

"Hey, Byakuya," Ichigo said, positioning himself in a deliberately casual pose, stretching out his long legs and leaning back on his hands. "Didn't expect to see you here. Want some pizza?"

Tatsuki suspected she might be drooling a little; to either side of her, Karin and Yuzu were similarly affected, gaping up at him like particularly stupid fish.

"I was wondering how Orihime-chan was doing," Rukia explained, "and Nii-sama said he was interested to see what Karakura Town was like when it wasn't, er--" she stopped, not wanting to speak of how Aizen had nigh-destroyed it.

"Being annihilated by a power-hungry lunatic," Byakuya finished for her. Clearly he had no such compunction about mentioning it. His voice was smooth and deep, like chocolate caramel.  "Is she not here?"

Tatsuki felt a little winded. Maybe she had told herself, when thinking back, that no one could possibly be that good-looking. _Nope_ , she thought, _he actually is_ , and mentally commended Orihime for managing to keep her mitts off him as long as she had.

"She was," Uryuu replied, "but I think she was feeling a bit claustrophobic in her gigai and took off for some air not long ago."

Byakuya's eyes fixed on Uryuu. "While controlling her reiatsu?"

Uryuu shrugged. "I can't speculate about her motives." Tatsuki marvelled at his ability to be so calm in the face of such a powerful being; she herself felt a bit like she was being lightly scoured by sand, and she was pretty sure that he wasn't anywhere near peak level.

"Hn,"was Byakuya's reply. Then his chin lifted, and he seemed to become more alert, rather like a hound scenting a fox. Without another word, he turned into a blur, then disappeared.

The room fell into another odd silence. "Yes, I _would_ like some pizza," Rukia said into it, giving Orihime's gigai a push to make room before plopping herself down and reaching for a slice. 

 

* * *

Orihime fled to Chad's shop, thinking to hide there with him until the Kuchiki siblings returned to Soul Society. What were they doing there, anyway?

She already knew the answer; just like Byakuya's concern had caused him to search for and find her on that rooftop when she'd exhausted herself, he had come to check on her well-being. Gladness filled her-- _he cares! he cares!_ she thought, exultant-- until she could brutally tamp it back down again.

Orihime felt despair that he would not easily let her withdraw from their relationship, whatever it was hovering on the cusp of becoming. The longer it went on, the stronger the ties binding them to each other, and the more painful parting would be.

And part they must. There was no middle ground for them; either they were together, with Byakuya deposed and humiliated and Orihime to blame for it, or they were apart, miserable, but with Byakuya still leader of his clan.

Chad's shop was already shut when Orihime blurred to a stop in front of it. He'd probably closed early and was doubtless making his way to Ichigo's at that moment. She heaved a sigh and flash-stepped to the park, wandering onto the soccer field and enjoying the cool caress of the overlong grass against her ankles.

A pang of guilt assailed her, and shame: how old was she, and how was she acting? Had she not fought Tsubaki for three whole days to conquer this habit she had of avoidance and denial? With a sigh, she loosened the stranglehold she'd placed on her reiatsu. Might as well get this over with.

It was less than a minute until he appeared before her, and damned if she could stop that smile that spread over her face at the sight of him. He was wearing a pine-green kosode and dark gray hakama, with his hair in a low ponytail. He looked delicious. Not for the first time, Orihime wished she had the right to peel that fine cotton off his shoulders and just rub herself against him. "Byakuya-sama."

"Orihime-san," he answered, taking a step toward her. "You are well?"

She couldn't seem to keep her feet from taking a step toward him in return. "I'm fine. It was just a bit crowded in Kurosaki-kun's room."

"That is what Ishida-san said."

_Bless him,_ Orihime thought. She could always count on Uryuu.

"It is pleasant here," Byakuya commented, angling his face toward the sky to study the stars.

Orihime looked up, too, and then twitched in surprise when she felt him take her hand. "Yes," she croaked, staring down as he linked their fingers and used the connection to tug her closer.

"Rukia assisted me to listen to the disc you gave me," he continued. "I enjoyed the songs very much."

"I'm glad!" she exclaimed. "I thought hard about the kind of music Byakuya-sama would like. I'm happy I guessed right!"

He returned his gaze, a silver somehow both hot and cool at the same time, to her face. "I have missed our evening walks after dinner."

"So have I." _No!_ Tell him you prefer something else. Something that he has nothing to do with. The pub crawls! Visiting the Living World! Anything!

"I find I am unsettled when you are not safe at home with us." How had he come closer? Now his other hand was coming up, and he was stroking the back of his fingers against her cheek with great tenderness. "With me."

Was this happening? This was happening! She had to stop it. How could she stop it? Orihime couldn't prevent herself from rubbing her cheek against his hand, reveling in a kind of terrified ecstacy. "I am unsettled when I'm not there with you." This was bad. So bad. And possibly the best thing ever. Why couldn't she stop talking?

When she opened her eyes again, it was to find Byakuya's face very near, and coming nearer. "Oh," she said inadequately, "this--"

He touched his mouth to hers, cutting off her words, stealing her breath. Time stretched, expanded; seconds lasted hours lasted days as she welcomed him in. With his eyes closed, his other senses seemed to sharpen almost unbearably. The soft rasp of her tongue against his, the gentle pull of her lips, the feather-light touch of her fingertips against his cheek all seared themselves into his memory, and possibly his flesh.

He had not intended to kiss her, not even to touch her, but it seemed his vaunted self-control fell to shreds before her, always. Shouldn't his pride chafe against how helpless he had become? It had not reared its head in many a day, it seemed to him, and he scarcely missed it. Love had shown him what had true substance-- he held it, here, in his hands. Pride had no way to compete against such a thing.

"When will you return to Soul Society?" he murmured, his mouth brushing hers with each word. She shuddered against him, and her hand tightened around his. "Will you come back with us now?"

"Ah, no," Orihime said, sounding genuinely regretful. "Three more days... I'll return the afternoon before I start at Fourth Division."

"I will have a feast prepared in celebration of your new position." And her return. And this night. And this moment. And this kiss.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to put anyone to any trouble--"

"It is no trouble."

"Are you sure?" He remained silent; what did she think? "Ah, of course you're sure. You're always sure." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Okay, then."

They stood there a moment longer. Byakuya rested his forehead against hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of the hand he held, feeling her bones, fragile under the skin.

"So, um, I should return to Tatsuki-chan's now."

"I will escort you there." Anything to extend his time with her.

"There's no need--" She pulled back and began to wave her hands in agitation.

"Orihime-san."

"I just don't want to bother you!" She waved her hands some more.

"If it bothered me, I would not do it." He caught one flailing hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to it.

She made a shivery sort of sound that put him in mind of sweaty, tangled sheets. Her voice was breathy when she said, "Tatsuki-chan is always telling me that I should stop being surprised when people do nice things for me."

"Tatsuki-san is wise, then." He gave her hand a gentle tug. "Come, show me where she lives."

"It actually was my apartment when I was alive," Orihime began, and kept up a running narrative as she led the way while they flash-stepped. "It's that one there, on the third floor." The lights were all out. "I guess Tatsuki-chan isn't back yet." Pause. "Oh, I left my gigai at Ichigo-kun's. And the keys to get in. And--"

A blur, and they were inside. "Ah, thank you, Byakuya-sama. I forgot we can pass through solid objects." She hummed in appreciation. "That's pretty cool."

He was gazing around the tiny abode. This... hovel... was where Orihime had lived for so many years, after her brother had died? It was cramped, and carried the odor of shabby furniture and a thousand cheap meals. The tatami had not been replaced in many years. There were water stains on the ceiling. It was completely unworthy of her.

"I know it doesn't look like much, Byakuya-sama," she said, her voice soft, her hand creeping into his own to give a light squeeze, "but I really was happy here. So you don't have to be upset for me."

He nodded briefly; it didn't change his opinion, but he did not wish to dismay or offend her. Plus, she was holding his hand; he'd have agreed to almost anything at that moment. It stirred in him a conviction that she would never again have to struggle, that she would enjoy every comfort she desired from this day forward.

A scrape of metal-on-metal sounded behind them.

"Oh, Tatsuki-chan's home!" Orihime exclaimed, discretely dropping Byakuya's hand and presenting a welcoming smile to the girl opening the door. "Hi, Tatsuki-chan! I was just showing Byakuya-sama where I used to live! I hope you don't mind!"

"It's fine," replied Tatsuki mildly, slanting him a speculative glance as she toed off her shoes. "It's still your place, Orihime. It always will be."

She gave a very fake yawn and an ever faker stretch. "Well, I'm turning in. See you tomorrow, Orihime." She sketched a bow to Byakuya. "Nice seeing you again." Then she was gone into her bedroom.

Orihime watched her go, feeling herself tremble with tension. She wanted to kiss Byakuya again; she wanted him to leave. She was thrilled he'd come to check on her here; she was frustrated that in spite of all her attempts to keep them apart, they kept inching closer and closer. She edged toward the door, one hand outstretched to open it and show him out, even as she searched her brain for a polite way of getting rid of him so she could lay on the couch, cover her head with the throw pillow, and mope herself to sleep.

Byakuya had other ideas, it seemed; his hand slid under the heavy fall of hair at the back of her neck and drew her in, and their mouths met in another deep, melting kiss. Her heart squeezed in a sort of agonized delight, and the sensation rolled down until it settled between her legs. Against her belly, Orihime felt his erection throb heavily through their clothing. When he lifted his head, his lips were parted and red and his eyes were bright with lust. If she'd thought smiling Byakuya was amazing, horny Byakuya was stunning, in a literal sense; Orihime actually felt dizzy just to look at him.

"Come home soon," he growled-- growled! Orihime felt a swoon coming on-- with promise thick in his voice.

"Ahhng," she whimpered, clutching at his shoulders because her legs were dissolving. "Yes. Soon. Three days."

He gave another little moist nibble at her lips, stepped back, and flash-stepped out of sight.

Orihime wobbled over to the couch and fell onto it. She just managed to turn off the light with an arm that shook like a tree in a hurricane. The pillow she clutched not to her face, but to her chest, and instead of moping, she smiled dreamily into the darkness. After wondering for months, she now knew what it was like to kiss Byakuya, and it had far outstripped even her wildest imaginings. She knew she should be upset, since this was a catastrophic obstacle to her plan of withdrawing from him to keep his standing in his clan out of danger.

She knew what she had to do, and she would do it. She _would_. But for tonight, she was going to recall those two kisses, to memorize them so she could unpack and relive them in future days when she was alone and missing him. Those future days would come soon enough. 

But they weren't here yet.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you think tomato sauce with cinnamon is not disgusting: you are wrong. It is loathesomely revolting. 
> 
> Note: a nure'en is the veranda that runs outside traditional Japanese buildings. It's also called an engawa; I went with the older name because Soul Society is running a few centuries behind the times.

 

Kissing Byakuya gave Orihime a renewed sense of purpose in distancing herself from him. It was like a watermark she'd accomplished-- achievement unlocked!-- and now she could dedicate herself to doing what she knew (felt? hoped?) was the right thing. A calmness settled over her, and she was able to enjoy her last few days in the Living World with her friends. She knew Tatsuki and Uryuu were both wondering at the change, knowing it had something to do with Byakuya but not sure how. 

_Let 'em wonder_ , she thought with a secret smile. Those kisses were for her alone. She wasn't sharing them with anyone. 

This meant, of course, that Orihime had to move out of the Kuchiki estate at the earliest possibility. Byakuya was having a 'feast' prepared for her; she could only hope it just meant an especially lavish dinner for just them, Rukia, and Renji and that no one else was invited. She planned on finishing her packing and leaving right after the meal. Spending another of those evenings she loved, in intimate conversation while strolling through the gardens and enjoying their hobbywork, would hurt too much and remind her of what she had to give up. 

And then, after the hobbies and walk... Orihime was pretty sure that if Byakuya made another concerted effort to seduce her, she'd be helpless to resist. Between the long, smoldering glances and just being _him,_ with his subtle humor and the unexpectedly poetic way he sometimes phrased things, everything about him was Kryptonite to her.

She bid farewell to her friends in Karakura Town and stepped through the senkaimon at Urahara's shop feeling pretty strong and good about herself, her plan, and the world in general. Just a few more hours, and it'll all be over. She forbade herself from thinking about what that meant, the finality of it. Not until she was in her own private quarters, everything between Byakuya and her had been severed, and she'd have the luxury of being miserable in solitude.

This commitment was sorely tested within not ten seconds of leaving the senkaimon in one of the many courtyards of the Kuchiki estate, because Byakuya himself was seated on one of the carved stone benches near it, reading the same slim volume of poetry she'd brought for him during their picnic. Having wondered what would have made him leave so suddenly, she'd read through it one afternoon and found the more suggestive tanka within, blushing to realize that he'd likely been affected by their explicit depictions of sex. His dedication to propriety was adorable, she decided.

No more so than the gladness on his face when he looked up from the book, fingertip marking his spot, as she stepped out onto the courtyard's lush grass. With a deep breath, she adjusted the shoulder strap of her duffel bag and soldiered ahead.

"You are earlier than expected," he told her. The tone of his voice told her it was not a complaint.

"I can go back and return in a few hours," she joked. His gaze was soft as it rested on her face, as she knew hers was on his. _It's fine,_ she thought. _It's good to be loved. It's better than the alternative._ She was going to find a silver lining in everything, from now on. Yes, they couldn't be together, but love-- even thwarted love-- was better than no love at all. 

"That won't be necessary." He held out a hand; she placed hers in it and he tucked it, with great solicitude, in the crook of his elbow to escort her to the house. "On Rukia's advice, I consulted Matsumoto-fukutaichou about what dishes to serve for the feast we will have tonight," he said after a moment. The look he slanted over at her was amused. "She presented a list of many... unusual combinations. I was unsure if she were telling the truth until her captain vouched for them. So several have been prepared, along with a number of more... conventional dishes. I hope you will not be dismayed if you alone partake of those made according to Matsumoto's recommendations."

That was his exquisitely polite way of saying, "ain't no way we're eating that shit". Orihime had to laugh. "I'm used to it," she said. "Besides, that just means there's more for me!" 

She felt weirdly happy, peaceful, even knowing this was the end. She could have this last little slice of heaven. "Who else is joining us?"

"Just Rukia and Renji." He glanced down at her. "Unless you wish to invite more...?"

"No, no, that's perfect," she replied quickly, relieved. "I didn't want anyone else." It would be easier to extricate herself if it were only their usual little group.

Rukia scampered from the dining room to the nure'en, beaming a welcome at Orihime while Renji followed and leaned against the post with a grin. She gave them both ferocious hugs. 

"Glad you're finally here," said Renji. "I'm starving."

"You're always starving," she teased, nudging him with her shoulder as they made their way into the dining room. The low table was _covered_ in dishes, each thing more delicious-looking than the next. Renji's tongue was almost hanging out.

"If this is the spread we get to welcome you back," he said, "you need to go away more often."

"None for you. Go home." Rukia elbowed him in the gut as she passed by.

"Renji-kun was just joking," Orihime said. "He would never really choose food over my company." 

He shot her a dubious look as he knelt by Rukia and stretched out a hand for a platter of thin-sliced pork in sauce. "Wouldn't place a bet on that, Orihime-chan," he said as he scooped a third of it onto his plate. "I love you, but I think I love food more."

"Be quiet or go home," Byakuya said from his side of the table. He did not like Renji telling Orihime he loved her, even when it was obvious he only meant a platonic or fraternal sort of love. 

"Y-yes, taichou," Renji said with speed, terrified of being denied the opulent feast spread out before him. 

"This is all so beautiful and... wow, just a lot of food," Orihime said. She strove for a smile that achieved balance between 'grateful' and 'impersonal' but feared it slipped between those two to 'slavishly adoring' because Byakuya looked so much like he was hoping this feast was pleasing to her. 

"The dishes specially prepared for you have been ranged around your plate," he said, his silvery eyes seeming to caress her face as he motioned with an elegant hand. 

Orihime tore her gaze away to survey the plenty in her vicinity. "Ooh, brussel sprouts with peanut butter! Beef in raspberry jam! Tomato sauce with cinnamon!" She gasped in delight and beamed across the table at Rukia. "Fudge and garlic brownies with artichoke frosting! Rukia-chan, you remembered!"

The other woman dabbed at her lips with a napkin, trying to hide how her complexion had gone green. "Yes, I thought you might enjoy them," she said in a faint voice, then waved away her friend's offer to share. "No, no, we couldn't possibly take any from you, it's all for you to enjoy."

The gong at the main gate sounded its sonorous boom to announce visitors. Rukia seemed to brighten and even chanced a bite of noodles. Moments later, a servant arrived to announce, "Kuchiki-sama, there is a group of female shinigami at the gate. They say they are here to, er, kidnap Inoue-sensei."

Faintly, they could hear Matsumoto Rangiku screeching, "Orihiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime-chaaaaaaaaaan, come out drinking with us! Come out, come out, come out!"

Byakuya frowned as Orihime leaped to her feet and took off trotting down the hall to the front door, then frowned deeper as he stood and made to follow her. 

"Oh, no, I don't really think--" Orihime was saying as he stalked up behind her. Her hands were braced on the doorframe in an attempt to keep from being plucked bodily from the Kuchiki manor by the grasping hands of the women on his front steps.

Byakuya peered over her shoulder to find every female seated officer in Seireitei massed around his door. Front and center were Rangiku and Yachiru, with Ise Nanao and Kurotsuchi Nemu flanking them, Nanao at least having the grace to look uncomfortable as she averted her gaze to a bush on the side. Behind them were the Kotetsu sisters and Hinamori Momo, and behind them, Unohana and Soi-Fong (the latter looking mutinous and about two seconds from bolting).

"Byakushi!" Yachiru screamed in joy, clambering up Orihime so she could get to him. He stepped back, feeling true alarm, as Orihime struggled not to drop the girl but then gave up and let her thump to the ground. He noted that Orihime was using her own body as a barrier to keep the pink-haired terror from reaching him, and made a mental note to thank her at a later time.

"What do you want?" he asked without preamble or pretense at hospitality or even courtesy.

"We want to celebrate Orihime-chan's recovery and new job at the Fourth!" exclaimed Rangiku. She hoisted up a sake bottle to prove she meant business. "We want her to come out drinking with us!"

"Orihime was too ill to celebrate her appointment in the Fourth Division last week," translated Nanao, still fascinated by that bush, "so we were hoping she might like to join us this evening, now that she has had more time to recover."

"But first, a makeover!" shouted Yachiru. Behind her, Nemu held up a large pink box with a handle on the top in one hand, and an equally pink garment bag in the other.

"A makeover?" Byakuya had long felt that women in groups were not only lacking in sense, but sanity as well, and that made them more dangerous than an equivalent pack of Menos Grande.

"A makeover is when a person, usually female, undergoes a transformation through the use of cosmetics, fashionable garments, and hairstyle to effect a more attractive appearance. The primary goal is to beguile a suitable mate," Nemu informed him in her usual flat tone, and gave her burdens, still aloft, a little shake for emphasis.

Byukuya's brows snapped together, and he turned to Orihime, giving her a brief but thorough inspection from head to toe. Waist-length chestnut hair framed a terminally pretty face; below that was a figure to make even a marble statue break into a sweat. She was wearing one of those light, feminine dresses from the Living World that she preferred and looked innocent and appealing at the same time. He could see no room for improvement; she was already better-looking than the huge majority of women he knew.

"Does she  _need_  one?" he asked, turning back to the women. "What is wrong with how she looks now?"

They all stared at him, dead silent for a long moment, and then one of the Kotetsu sisters sighed, wistful.

"Oi, Orihime-chan, apparently you're already so beautiful there's no way you could get better!" Matsumoto said with a gleeful cackle, and leered at him.

Byakuya felt a vein throb in his temple.

"Orihime-san, do you actually  _want_  to go drinking with these women?" he demanded.

"Er... it would be nice to celebrate joining the Gotei..." Her eyes were wide, and she looked a little confused.

"Then you'll need a good meal first," he replied, then turned back to the others. "Come back in an hour." Then he drew Orihime from the door, and slammed it in their faces, ignoring their indignant sputters of protest.

Another knock on the door. He swung it open, ready to release Senbonzakura if they would not leave, but it was only Nemu with pink box and garment bag outthrust. "In case Inoue-sensei wants them."

He snatched them from her and shouldered the door closed again before depositing them in the hands of a servant lurking nearby. "Put these in Inoue-sensei's room," he directed before turning to the girl herself. "Dinner."

She accompanied him back to the dining room in silence, but he could sense how hard she was fighting the grin that wanted to break out. "Thank you for coming to my defense," she said at last.

_Cheeky_ _._ "I could say the same," was his response. "Yachiru is... fixated on me for some reason."

Orihime glanced up at him, her gaze roaming over him as a faint flush came and went in her cheeks. Awareness crackled between them.

"I can't imagine why," she murmured at last. When he shot her a look, she added with an innocent expression, "since you don't encourage her in any way."

"Hn." He feigned disapproval, but he enjoyed flirting with her like this. Memories of their kisses thrummed through his brain on an endless loop. In the narrow space of the hallway, he could smell the fresh, green scent she wore. He longed to bury his face against her neck and breathe her in. His fingertips itched to touch her soft skin. They were still yards from the dining room, they were alone in the hallway, he could--

Orihime seemed to sense the danger she was in, because she darted a wide-eyed glance at him and said brightly, "They'll be back soon, I'd better eat fast so I can get dressed!" before dashing the rest of the way down the hall toward where Rukia and Renji awaited them.

She was already seated and eating heartily by the time Byakuya made his somewhat more decorous arrival. 

"--I did have some idea they were planning to force you to celebrate," Rukia was saying. Renji just shoveled in a mouthful of rice.

"It really cuts back on my time tonight...I'll just have to get everything done before they get here..." Orihime looked deep in thought as she chewed. Byakuya wondered what she needed time for tonight; doubtless just some preparation for her first day at her new post with the Fourth Division.

When her plate was empty, she thanked Byakuya with a deep bow for the feast and left to change for the upcoming outing. The next time the gong sounded, Byakuya went to answer it himself, and found not just most of the Women's Association members outside (captains Unohana and Soi-Fong had absconded), but a good number of the male population of the Gotei 13 as well.

"Lovely Orihime~chan, won't you come out and play?" warbled Kyouraku before giving a bleary squint at the doorway. "Oh. It's you, Byakuya-kun. Still lovely, eh, ladies?" To Byakuya's chagrin, a feminine cheer went up from the group. "You're welcome to join us as well, of course, Byakuya-kun, but we're here to fetch Orihime~chan. Ah, there she is!"

Orihime placed a hand on Byakuya's arm just long enough to slip by him.  His sister and lieutenant exited the door and joined the group as well.  Before she disappeared into their midst, he observed she was wearing snug trousers-- he recalled Rukia saying they were called "jeans"-- with a jacket featuring a little ruffled skirt that fluttered around her well-curved hips as she walked. Her shoes had those needle-sharp heels on them that living women seemed to like. The men surrounding her watched with expressions of great hunger, and that made him irritated.

"We'll have her back by curfew, Byakuya-kun!" sang Kyouraku, and the group began to move off. He heard a woman ask, "She has a curfew?" in shock, which made him more irate.  _As if he'd put such restrictions on a guest of the Kuchiki family._

"Um," Rukia said, trying to turn back to him as the crowd bore her away. "Nii-sama, won't you please come with us? It will be... fun?" She didn't sound too sure of that.

It was obvious that she felt bad for him and wanted him to suffer/enjoy himself with everyone else. The group had frozen, and as one turned to watch his reaction. If the expressions of dread on the others' faces were any indication, Rukia and Orihime were the only ones who felt the appeal of his presence.

Byakuya's sense of humor was pretty much relegated to a finely-tuned sense of _schadenfreude_. The idea of dampening the evening's fun for this motley bunch tickled him like not much had in months. Plus, he had entertained hopes of spending the evening with Orihime, and if she were being borne away to this party, him attending as well would be the only way to do that.

"Thank you, I will," he therefore said, unable to suppress a tiny, tiny grin at the audible groans. A glance at Orihime revealed a similar grin on her face; the minx knew, and thought it was funny, too.

"Let's goooooo!" howled Matsumoto.

"Banzai!" answered the mob, as if they were heading into battle instead of a party. They started moving forward like a large and ungainly single-celled organism, at least half of them already having helped themselves to some liquor. Byakuya walked at the rear while observing the bright eyes and excited faces all around him. Perhaps this sort of emotional release as a whole was needed, for morale's sake.

"Where are we going?" he asked no one in particular.

"Since you wouldn't let Orihime-san join us earlier, we had time to put together something a little more organized," stated Nanao.

"Eighth Division was kind enough to throw a party at its headquarters," added Hisagi, somewhere in the throng. A cheer went up for Eighth Division's generosity.

"So much more dignified, considering our guest of honor," said Kyouraku, as if it were his idea. Byakuya had not a moment's doubt Nanao was behind it; it would be more convenient for her if that good man were to pass out at the end of the evening in his own headquarters, rather than her having to search Rukongai for his unconscious form at all hours.

The walk to the Eighth was a jolly one, and before even Byakuya knew it, they had arrived. The large courtyard was well-lit by many flickering torches around the perimeter, and a good number of people were already dancing in the middle to some obscenely loud and very strange music.

"Ohh, Living World music!" Orihime exclaimed, clapping as she bounced on her toes. "Rangiku-san, it's--"

"The CDs we bought together the last time I was there, yes!" Matsumoto finished. "Everybody in, everybody in! Let's get started!"

The breaching horde filed in, eager, and were met with shouts of welcome by those already there. Byakuya peered through the smoke-hazed atmosphere, noting that all three of the Vaizard captains were enthusiastically engaged in dancing. On the  _nure'en_ at the edge of the headquarters building, he was relieved to see the captains Ukitake, Komamura, Unohana, Soi-Fong, Hitsugaya, and Zaraki.  Unless they were lost in the crowd or dancing-- most unlikely, Byakuya felt-- it seemed that Yamamoto and Kurotsuchi did not share the enthusiasm for attending the party. Their lieutenants were both present, however, he noted with no little surprise.

Grateful that there was a more restrained group with whom he would be able to pass the evening, Byakuya made his way with speed toward his colleagues. To a one, they all appeared shocked to see him there. Zaraki did not hesitate to mention as such.

"Thought you'd shrivel up and die in the presence of other people havin' a good time, princess," he rumbled. "Your bein' here ought to cure that right quick, though."

"Why else do you think I'm here, Zaraki?" Byakuya fired back in his usual flat tone, causing Zaraki's eyebrow to lift before his laugh boomed out over the gathering.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Byakuya-san," said Ukitake with his characteristic kindness. Unohana hummed assent, and Komamura gave a short nod. Soi-Fong and Hitsugaya ignored him, preferring to keep their gazes on the dancers.

Byakuya had no sooner seated himself between Komamura and Hitsugaya than Orihime bounced up to the veranda. "Byakuya-sama," she said breathlessly, "can I leave my jacket with you? I don't want to lose it!"

With that, she stripped off the little skirted jacket to reveal that her top half looked to be covered by nothing more than a scrap of material in the shape of a triangle with one point tied by a string at her throat, the wider bottom edge wrapping around her waist, looking rather like the gear Soi-Fong and Yoruichi wore when they used shunkou. It failed to completely conceal the full extent of Orihime's charms. Quite without his permission, Byakuya felt his jaw drop several centimeters.

A gurgling sound to his left drew his attention; in spite of his daily exposure to Matsumoto's prized treasures-- should that not have rendered the boy immune by now?-- Hitsugaya was slowly turning beet-red, in addition to choking on his tongue. On Hitsugaya's other side, Zaraki was displaying a grin even more feral than usual. Soi-Fong was looking less apathetic than was typical for her. Even Ukitake had a faint tinge of pink across his cheeks. Byakuya suspected that, were it not for the fur on his face, Komamura would have revealed a blush as well.

"Such a healthy young lady," Unohana said with a warm smile.

"You will catch a chill in that... thing," he found himself telling her, his tone severe.

"Oh, no, Byakuya-sama!" she protested, "though you're so nice for worrying about me! I'll keep warm by dancing!"

A new song fired up, and Orihime gasped in pleasure. "I love this song," she said fervently.

The handsome 8th seat of Fourth Division fought free of the crowd to arrive at her side. "Inoue-san, you promised the next dance to me."

"Yes!" she said. With a final bow to Byakuya, she thanked him and accepted the 8th seat's hand as he drew her back into the throng. As she left, Hitsugaya gurgled again, because her miniscule top left the entirety of her back bare, plus the snugness of the jeans revealed that she had a backside shapely enough to cause immediate, acute blood loss through nosebleed.

"It's a delight to see the results of good nutrition and exercise," commented Unohana with serene joy. Ukitake tood a hurried sip of his sake. Hitsugaya continued to gurgle, and Zaraki continued to leer.

Byakuya downed his entire saucer in one gulp while hoping no one noticed.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orihime's theme this chapter is the song "Can't Stop" by Mozella, especially the lyrics:  
> "You have everything I could ever want  
> You speak to my soul like you've known it before  
> And I just can't stop myself".

 Byakuya was glad he had insisted Orihime eat dinner before the party, because in spite of the tables overflowing with food and the seemingly thousands of sake bottles available, Orihime did not partake in any of it because she never stopped dancing. She danced with almost every man present, and most of the women, too.

She performed a bizarre flamenco with Kyouraku, and even let Zaraki take her for a literal whirl around the dance floor (he hoisted her up to his eye level with the iron band he called his arm, grabbed her hand and stuck it straight out from their bodies, and whipped them around with abandon. Orihime just laughed helplessly, head thrown back and hair flying out in a long wave).

She managed to coax Hitsugaya to dance with her to something slower, and Byakuya had to commend the boy-- his intense green gaze had not left the girl's face even once. Perhaps having Matsumoto as his lieutenant had given him some important skills in how to comport one's self in this department.

Orihime danced with Renji, Hisagi, Ikkaku, Kira, and Iba, all of whom appeared like they were starving to death every time they looked at her. She danced a slow song with Yumichika, snuggled in so close that if Byakuya hadn't harbored doubts about that man's preferences, he'd have marched over and snatched her away. 

She danced with every member of the Women's Association at the same time to a crazy-sounding song called "It's Raining Men"; the inclusion of the two female captains had a thousand male eyebrows raising. Orihime even danced with the less attractive shinigami like Second Division's Omaeda. She looked like she was in her element, like she'd been born for this night.

Byakuya, for his part, had been drinking steadily all evening. Hitsugaya was by this late hour slumped, almost unconscious, against the wall. Ukitake was still flushed, this time with inebriation, and sat there with his eyes closed and a silly smile on his lips. Soi-Fong had had enough that she, too, was smiling foolishly, her eyes bright as she scanned the crowd. Komamura was nodding off into his saucer. Unohana was pouring sake straight down her throat and complimenting everyone who came within two meters of the veranda.

Kyouraku had left off dancing and was conferring at great length with Zaraki over whether taste or alcoholic content was the more important characteristic of a quality alcoholic beverage. Byakuya was surprised to hear that Zaraki was a proponent of of quality over impact.

"If it tastes like shit, why drink it?" was his opinion. Byakuya agreed completely, but would have died before expressing that aloud.

Orihime wove through the crowd toward them, giggling as she was jostled back and forth by the dancing bodies. "I think I danced with everyone here!" she announced. Her cheeks were bright pink, and when she waggled her hand at Komamura in a wordless entreaty to help her onto the veranda, Byakuya realized that somewhere along the way, she had managed to enjoy an alcoholic beverage. Or several.

__Or many_ ,_ he amended when she flopped onto her back in front of him. Her manners and anxiety to not offend usually combined to prevent her from the most egregious of faux pas, and her usual expression when in the company of a captain was wide-eyed apprehension. Around multiple captains, she was customarily stricken dumb. He peered closer; she must have been hammered to be this relaxed around him and six captains.

"The lyrics to these songs are filthy," he informed her.

"Of course they are," she agreed happily. "They don't call it booty music for nothing."

__Ugh_ ,_ Byakuya thought. Still, even he had to admit to himself that the beat had his blood itching for movement of some sort. Not that he'd indulge.

"Hey, Byakuya-sama," she said, turning her head to gaze at him and giggling, "I've had three marriage proposals tonight."

"Ridiculous." Her skimpy garment was just not up to the task of containing its bounty, and not only was a smooth expanse of belly visible at the bottom, but the plump curves at the sides of her breasts were exposed. Her skin glowed in the torchlight. Her profile was excruciatingly pretty, the soft peaks and valleys of her mouth pure temptation in the moonlight.

"Isn't it?" Her eyes closed, and a blissful smile curved her lips. 

Byakuya emptied the closest bottle of sake into his saucer and scanned the nearby nure'en for another. He noted that Komamura appeared to be trying to hide a bottle in the folds of his captain's haori.  _Tricky dog._

"I do not even know how I'm going to walk home tonight," she continued. "Byakuya-sama, as drunk as you are, can you flash-step us back? Or will we crash into a roof and die?"

"I am not drunk," he replied with considerable dignity, then hiccupped. It dispelled the dignity a bit. "A Kuchiki is never drunk in public."

"This is a private party," Kyouraku interjected from his end of the veranda, somewhat untruthfully. "Invitation-only. Very exclusive."

"In that case," said Byakuya, holding out his saucer to Komamura for a refill, "kanpai!"

"Kanpai!" cried the other captains. The toast was overheard by those shinigami closest to them, who repeated it. Then the shinigami closest to them repeated it, and so on, until the entire assemblage was bawling it to the heavens. Something hit Byakuya's foot, and he looked down to find Orihime with arms outflung, laughing in abandon.

She turned her head to him again, eyes starry, and said, "I love you, Byakuya."

Byakuya's breath went out with a wheeze. Her eyes widened, as if she'd realized with a certain amount of horror what she'd said, and her mouth worked soundlessly for a a few seconds before she tore her gaze away to regard the gentleman beside him, and continued, "I love you, Komamura-taichou. You have such handsome fur!" 

Komamura stroked his chin, looking pleased. Byakuya, on the other hand, was trying to get his heart beating again; that had been, to his memory, the first time anyone had ever said that to him. He  hadn't realized how parched his soul must have been, to drink it up with such eager thirst. And to have Orihime be the one to say it, she from whom he had wanted to hear it... longing lanced through his chest to his belly, and triumph.

...except that now she was going through the entire contingent of captains on the _nure'en_ , explaining how she loved all of them, too. 

To Hitsugaya: "I love you, Toushirou-kun! You're adorable! Which means I _adore_ you!" More gurgling.

To Zaraki: "Zaraki-taichou, you're such a good father! I love you!"

To Ukitake: "I love you, Ukitake-taichou! You would be a wonderful father too, if only you had children! So go have some right away, hey, taichou?"

To Unohana: "That  _braid_. I love you, Unohana-taichou."

 

To Kyouraku: "Kyouraku-taichou, I love you, so you better stop sexually harassing Nanao-san." To show she was in earnest, Orihime rolled to her belly and peered at him. The pert rounds of her jeans-clad bottom drew Byakuya's gaze like a moth to two particularly well-shaped flames. "If you don't, I worry that she'll have you killed. And since I love you, I don't want that to happen. So maybe take a class and learn how to keep your hands to yourself, okay?"

To Soi-Fong: "I don't think I love you, Soi-Fong-taichou, but I  _am_  scared of you." (Soi-Fong's reply: "Good.")

It was definitely time to leave. He sighed into his saucer; it seemed that he was just the first to be addressed in an incoherent stream of too-friendly nonsense. Byakuya nudged Orihime with his foot. "Put your jacket on. We're going home."

"Okay!" It appeared that Orihime was a very agreeable drunk, in addition to being an affectionate one. She waggled her fingers at Komamura again, and he helped her sit up, then don the jacket. Once she'd managed to get her legs over the edge of the _nure'en_ and her feet on the ground, she was rather steady. Byakuya descended the stairs with the studied composure of the soused, and led her around the edge of the crowd toward the gate. He prayed that no one saw them leaving, because then they'd never be able to get out of the party, for all the protracted farewells, entreaties to stay, and pleas for one last dance that would turn into a dozen or more. 

Once they'd made it outside without drawing attention from the throng, they started walking. It took Byakuya at least two full minutes to recall where his home was, which necessitated a 90 degree change in direction once he had.

"It was kind of Rukia to invite me along," he told her solemnly. "I hope she does not do it again."

"Oh, you had fun," she replied, nudging his arm with her shoulder and laughing beside him. "I heard you trading insults with Zaraki-taichou. And I saw you smirking at poor li'l Toushirou-kun and Unohana-taichou."

"My hangover tomorrow will make me pray for death." He knew the servants would try to press on him the traditional Kuchiki hangover cure, but in Byakuya's experience, the traditional Kuchiki hangover cure didn't work for shit.

"No, no, no, no, no, Byakuya-sama!" Orihime protested. Her hand came up to tug at his sleeve, then curved under his elbow until they were walking arm-in-arm. "I will take care of everything, trust me! You won't even know you were this drunk tonight, when I get through with you."

"Kuchikis are never drunk in public," he reminded her. "We are in public, therefore I am not drunk." It was his own particular brand of logic, and he was sticking to it. But he was intrigued in spite of himself. "What are you going to do to me?" It sounded both alarming and titillating at the same time.

"Well, when we get home, I'll make you drink plenty of nice cold water," Orihime began with relish. "Then I'll make you take several willow bark tablets. That's what they make aspirin from, in the living world. Drinking so much water will make you wake several times in the night to use the bathroom, and each time you wake, I'll make you drink more water. Then in the morning, I'll make you go soak in the onsen and sweat out the last of the alcohol."

She beamed up at him, hugging his arm to her bosom. "It's foolproof! Never fails!" She pumped a tiny fist in the air before adding with significant gravitas,  "Trust me, I'm a doctor!"

"There seems to be a lot of you making me do things," he commented, choosing to ignore his misgivings about such a flighty creature being in a position of power over life and death. "How realistic do you think that is?"

That gave her pause. "Hm, not very, if you put it that way. But, Byakuya-sama," and here she gazed up at him with huge eyes glimmering silver in the moonlight, "why wouldn't you want to do what I tell you, if it meant you'd feel better? I promise I will always take very good care of you."

_Oh, hell_. Those eyes could melt a steel-hearted demon. Her breasts were cradling his entire arm from elbow to shoulder. Could she truly be this naive and unaware of what she did to a man? If it hadn't felt so very enjoyable, and Byakuya weren't so  _very_ drunk, he'd have put her away from him and flash-stepped home. At the same time, he felt a scorching impulse to tug her into a dark alley and ravish her against a wall. 

As it was, he just sighed and concentrated on putting one foot after the other in the general direction of the Kuchiki compound.

It was actually a beautiful night, the weather cooperating nicely, with a warm breeze wafting in from the east. The sky overhead was devoid of clouds, with nothing to obstruct his view of the moon and stars. Not a soul was to be seen in their vicinity. The sake was thrumming nicely through his veins, and he felt relaxed and even (dare he admit it) content. Beside him, beyond the sharp alcoholic odor of the sake she'd drunk, Orihime smelled like sunshine and green, growing things. From somewhere nearby wafted the scent of night-blooming jasmine. The only sound, once they both fell silent, were their own footfalls.

Byakuya was taken by a sense of hyper-awareness, of immediacy and clarity. Time seemed to slow. He usually only experienced it in the thick of battle, and never after having imbibed. It had come about with the juncture of all five senses being pleasured at the same time.

His arm apparently decided to act on its own, and disentangled itself from Orihime's grasp, instead wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. As a testament to how closely aligned they were in that moment, she didn't gasp in surprise or pull away; instead, she slid her own arm around him in return, and leaned her cheek on his shoulder.

There, that's what had been missing; the heat of her body against his, and the clasp of her arm to let him know that he wasn't alone in that place, with the stars wheeling overhead and the jasmine thick on the air.

Orihime, too, was feeling a deep contentment that she doubted she'd ever experienced before. Her mistake at the party-- damn drinking so much sake! Her impulse control was hovering around zero at this point-- had her mouth speaking before her brain could filter her thoughts. Thankfully, her terror at having blabbed her feelings aloud to Byakuya had galvanized her mind into coming up with a way to cover it up, hence her witless gibbering about loving the other captains as well. 

Still that having been said, Orihime was feeling somehow both heartsore and reckless at the same time. This was the last night, wasn't it? The very last night she would ever have with him. She'd kept away from him as much as possible, but the moment she'd forgotten she was avoiding him, back she flew in his direction, like a moth to a flame, or like a compass needle to due north. 

She should have snuck away to get her things and move to her new quarters in the Fourth's barracks while Byakuya partied hardy with his fellow captains; she'd have been away without his knowledge, and with the hangover he was due to have, he wouldn't have noticed her absence until dinnertime. A current of self-loathing coursed through Orihime; she was such a damned coward. If she couldn't deny something, she'd avoid it.

Unless it was unavoidable, like tonight. Tonight, her friends had laid her careful plans to waste, had caught her up in their joyful commotion, and now here she was, drunk and strolling back to the Kuchiki estate, wrapped around Byakuya like she had any right to walk at his side, like she wasn't planning on breaking his heart by deserting him.

_It's to protect him_ , she told herself, and repeated it until they turned a corner and the flickering torchlight of the estate's main entrance lit up the end of the street with a warm glow. _It's to keep his heart from breaking even more from shame and humiliation._

"It would appear the night is over," Byakuya murmured. 

They were still several blocks away; they were no more than shifting shadows at the end of the elegant, tree-lined avenue. That recklessness rose up like a tide within Orihime, and desperation to extend these last few moments, and she stopped, staring up into his beloved face for a long, quiet moment.

"It doesn't have to be," she replied at last, and flash-stepped them from the street.

They alit on the gentle hill of the clearing at the center of The Thicket. It was the highest point of the entire estate, and Byakuya had spent many hours in his long-ago youth reclining on its slope, watching clouds and stars pass by as he dreamed of his future, of the glorious battles he'd fight, of the monstrous enemies he'd defeat, of the beautiful maidens he'd rescue and woo. 

...that last one, he was dismayed to admit to himself, had not gone so well. 

His attempts at wooing consisted of two: his clear-cut courting of Hisana, who had acquiesced to his attentions to save herself from a life of destitution, and now his uncertain overtures with Orihime. Surely things were progressing, were they not? Their kisses in the Living World seemed to have gone well; from his perspective, they had been almost revelatory in showing him what pleasure could be had when desire was reciprocated, and how hollow his relations with Hisana had been, all compliance and gratitude on her part, all unrequited fervor on his.

Orihime had kissed him back with all the fire in her enormous, passionate heart, and it had made all the difference in the world. 

Byakuya was not ignorant of how romantic a setting this was. He felt a deep hope that it was about to inspire her to greater exploration of what they had begun in that park in Karakura Town. The prospect of being able to kiss her again, to taste the sake in her mouth and feel her body against his, had his pulse speeding as he turned to her, an inquiring brow raised.

"It's such a lovely night," she said, sounding a little uncertain. "Would-- would you watch the stars with me?"

Watch them? He'd catch them, give them to her on a bed of velvet if she asked so sweetly.

"Yes," was all he was able to say in response. Not for the first time, Byakuya rued his natural reticence and wished he could bring himself to speak of the poetry that seemed to overflow his veins whenever she was with him. 

Instead of standing, necks craned to the sky, Orihime surprised him by seating herself on the lush grass, tossing a glance back up at him that seemed more than a little flirty. Byakuya hastened to sit at her side, far closer than necessary or even appropriate, close enough even to feel the heat radiating off her. He had just turned his eyes heavenward when he felt a little weight on his shoulder; Orihime was resting her head there, her hair soft against his neck as she let out a quiet, content sigh.

Byakuya felt the shock, and the joy, of it to his toes. Again, he wound an arm around her waist, pulled her closer, tucking her securely against him. She curled up her legs until they were almost tucked in his lap. His other arm, free, empty, felt restless, like it had some mysterious job to do, and its fingers twitched from frustrated longing to touch her. A quick glance down told him she had her eyes closed, and her face was the very image of bliss.

"You're not looking at the stars," he murmured. 

Her eyes flew open and her lips parted, as if in surprise, as if to speak, but their faces were so close, so close, and Byakuya didn't remember moving, and then his mouth was on hers. His free hand finally found a task by coming around to cup her cheek, to thread his fingers into her hair, to stroke down the shell of her ear as they kissed. 

When he lifted his lips from hers, Orihime's eyes were shining and she smiled, that smile of gladness and welcome that made him think of cozy rooms with fireplaces and steaming cups of tea, make him think of safe returns and a full belly, made him think of home.

She was home to him. Orihime was his home.

"I l-- " he began, needing to say it. He _needed_ her to know.

But she kissed him again, with enough passion that his head was spinning from far more than just the very considerable amount of sake he'd drunk by the time she pulled away. 

"You're not looking at the stars," she teased, tossing his own words back at him, and gently tugged herself free of his embrace to lay back on the ground. 

He stared down at her for what felt like seconds, or an hour; her hair spread out around her on the grass like a ruddy starburst. Her eyes, as she looked back at him, were calm, but a little sad. The grass was cool and a bit damp, and he didn't care, laying back with his eyes fixed on the heavens.

Orihime reposed beside him, arms folded across her waist. Byakuya turned his head to the side and studied her, saw how her eyes reflected the moon, and let his arms fall loose at his side. She relaxed her own, and their hands touched, parted, then touched again, fingers twining. Slowly, she tilted her head until it rested against his shoulder once more.

He felt, rather than saw, her shiver, so he released her hand and slid his arm beneath her, drawing her close until she lay against him, protected by his body from the chill of the ground. Her hair spilled around them, pooling on his chest as she tucked her face against his neck, lips just touching his throat. Byakuya folded both arms around her and was surprised at the force of the joy that rocked through him. He rode it like a wave, hands smoothing over Orihime's back in an endless caress as he brushed his lips over her hair and touched them to her forehead over and over.

Byakuya blinked, dreamily watching the sky course above. He felt like he held the world in his hands, like he sat at the edge of a calm ocean, like he'd fallen into the heart of a flame. He closed his eyes, and let the world slide away.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orihime's song this chapter is the lyrics (not the music, ugh) to 'Daylight' by Maroon 5. 
> 
> "The sky is getting bright  
> The stars are burning out  
> Somebody slow it down  
> This is way too hard  
> Cuz I know when the sun comes up  
> I will leave, this is my last glance  
> That will soon be memory."

Orihime knew Byakuya had fallen asleep. His deep, even breathing made his chest rise and fall beneath her head. He was warm and solid beneath her. She was very grateful she'd had the opportunity to learn what it felt to press herself all along his body, to feel him in a way that was both intimate and chaste at the same time. She'd been able to learn a lot about him tonight, in fact; what he was like when he was drunk (unusually friendly and adorable), what he was like at a party (haughty and adorable) and what it was like to hold him (sexy and adorable). 

She lay there, soaking in his heat, inhaling him without shame. He smelled like sandalwood and ginger and pepper, masculine and spicy and completely delicious. Her only regret was that she'd never gotten to make love with him. She had no frame of reference, still being a virgin, but she was pretty sure that sex with Byakuya would have been transcendent. 

_Something to dream about,_ she thought, starting tomorrow night. _I'll imagine sex with Byakuya every night until it gets boring._ After a few years, she was sure some other way to ease herself into sleep would present itself. 

No more time to dawdle; she had to take advantage of his inebriation and fatigue and get while the getting was good. Her packing was almost complete, and whatever she couldn't carry tonight, Rukia could bring tomorrow. With care, in silence, Orihime levered herself up off Byakuya, holding her breath until she saw that he wasn't waking before standing and inspecting the sky overhead. Indigo was giving way to brighter sapphire; she had to hurry.

She flash-stepped to her room and changed into more practical shoes and a less pornographic top before packing the last few items. As she made her bed, she felt a pang of guilt and concern for Byakuya, laying there in the grass, surely cold now that she wasn't covering him and keeping him warm. With a sigh, she took the beautiful quilt off her bed and returned to The Thicket.

He lay as before, still and pale and ethereally handsome, as the sky shifted to cobalt. There was a faint line between his brows, as if he were frowning in his sleep. She draped the quilt over him, unable to keep from smiling as his frown eased and he smacked his lips-- just a little, and still managed to do it with elegance-- in his sleep.

Too soon, the sun would crest the horizon and its golden light would fall on him, and he would awaken. She wished she could stay, be the first thing he saw, could smile a good-morning at him. This was a damnable situation and she couldn't see a good way out of it, only one way that was only a tiny bit less awful than the others. 

"I love you," she told him in a whisper so faint it was almost hidden by the rustling by the wind of the leaves in the nearby trees. "I'm sorry."

She returned to her room and wrote a quick note of farewell, keeping the language neutral and almost offensive in how cheery it was. She couldn't keep from crying as she wrote it; she didn't lie, not even a little, but she knew that the way she had written it seemed dismissive and trivializing of his feelings. She knew that if she were the recipient of such a letter, after the feelings that had been developing between them, and the kisses, and certainly after the previous night of affectionate closeness, it would have struck her like a blow to the gut. Regret was a bottomless chasm and she fell herself spiraling down it, choking it back and forcing herself to continue. 

She took up the Seaweed Ambassador, which she'd finished sewing during her week in the Living World, and slipped into Byakuya's bedroom. She placed the Ambassador on the futon where it would be easily seen, and in its lap, she placed the folded note. Back in her own room, she managed to drape the straps of all her bags over her shoulders and flash-stepped from the estate, steadfastl in ignoring the pain lancing through her chest.

Upon arrival at the Fourth Division barracks, Orihime went right to Hanatarou's quarters. He was always up before dawn, and opened the door soon after her knock.

"Orihime-san!" he said, stepping back so she could enter, "you're sure eager to get started... wow, that's a lot of bags... hey, why are you crying?"

Orihime, who had begun thrusting bags at him, dropped the ones she still held and burst into tears. Hanatarou flailed for a moment before deciding to just let go of the bags she'd given him. He went to her, patting her arm and leading her toward a chair. 

"I'll make some tea," he said, "and then you can tell me what's wrong."

He went into his tiny kitchen and stayed there for far longer than it took to boil water and set out cups, to give her some time to compose herself. By the time he was bringing a tray out to his main room, she had calmed to the point of no longer sobbing, only trickling tears down her cheeks at a steady pace while sniffling. Hanatarou set the tray down, poured out for each of them, and placed a cup in one of her hands and a clean handkerchief in the other.

"Wipe, then blow, then tell me what that's all about," he instructed. He was using his gentle-but-firm 'do it or else' tone, learned at the knee of the master, Unohana-taichou.

So Orihime wiped her face, blew her nose, and unburdened herself of her plight. When she was done, she gazed hopefully at him. "Can you see any way around it? Or have I committed the least of two evils?"

"I don't know," Hanatarou replied. "I don't know him as you do. If you feel that breaking his heart is preferable to causing him to suffer terrible shame, well, I guess you must be right. It's just a shame that a choice like that has to be made." 

He stood and smoothed out his hakama. "Now, it's after dawn, so go change into your new shihakusho and wash your face. It's time for your first day of work! Let's try to stay so busy that you don't get too sad."

Orihime nodded and stood. Her head felt like a block of wood from the aftereffects of too much drink, too little sleep, and all that crying. She splashed freezing-cold water on her face, gasping as it made contact with her skin, cupping the cold liquid over her eyes until they felt less swollen. After changing into her new uniform, she dug out a little tube of concealer and used it on the bruise-like circles under her eyes and where her nose had turned red from blowing it so often. She combed on some mascara and dabbed a bit of lipstick on, feeling she should make some effort for her first day, then put her hair up in a messy bun.

"How do I look?" she asked Hanatarou, forcing a cheerful tone.

"You look fine," he said with his sweet smile. Orihime knew he was lying, but she needed the lie to keep going. He held out a hand, and in his cupped palm was a large pill with a skull etched on it. "But you also look like you might need this."

"Thank you," she said fervently, and popped the energy pill into her mouth. It was hard to swallow-- the thing was gigantic-- but almost as soon as she had, she felt a surge of vitality flood her, modest at first but increasing as they left Hanatarou's quarters and made their way to Unohana's office in the hospital section of the Fourth Division. 

After a warm welcome by her new captain, Orihime was placed into Isane's care, to be shown around the hospital to staff-only places she hadn't yet seen and assisted to make up a healer's backpack for use at off-site locations. Then she was handed off to Hanatarou again, this time to be shown her new quarters, which was right next door and identical to his. He helped her transfer most of those bags to it and even chatted with cheerful determination as they unpacked to keep her mind off "things", as he put it.

"We can go to a few inexpensive shops in Rukongai, get some things to jazz it up... it'll be nice and homey in no time," he said with a smile. "Let's go see your office!"

Orihime's office was quite spacious, with a desk area and bookshelves at one end and a pair of sofas facing each other over a coffee table on the other.

"Oh, it's perfect!" she exclaimed, depositing on the desk the two bags of books she held, and burst into tears once more. She was as thrilled as could be over her new work situation, and the experience of feeling that satisfaction at the same time as her profound sorrow regarding Byakuya combined to completely overwhelm her. 

Hanatarou gave her a gentle push toward one of the sofas, and she slumped down on it. 

"I'll be okay in a minute," she sobbed. He only handed her another hankie, then began to unload one of her bookbags he'd lugged in and place her books on the shelves. It wasn't until he found a naked nail on the wall and had hung her medical school diploma (given by Ishida Ryuuken to his son to give to Orihime) on it that her crying jag petered out. She stretched out on the sofa and draped an arm over her face. 

"I hear it gets easier," he told her, sitting on the coffee table by her. "Here, I found a day planner in the desk drawer. Send out some butterflies to let people know you're open for business. I bet you that by the end of the day, you'll have a full schedule all set up for next week."

So Orihime washed her face a second time, composed herself, and sent out a dozen butterflies to advertise her talents to the captainage of of the Gotei. By the end of the day, the energy pill had worn off and she was seriously flagging; it was with profound relief that she made her way back to her quarters. The strain of fearing Byakuya would ignore what she'd written in her note and come after her had worn her as thin as a strand of hair.

She was even more grateful that Hanatarou had suggested making up the single room's futon earlier; she had barely shut the door behind her before she was stripping out of her shihakushou and flopping face-down onto her new bed. Orihime's exhaustion was such that her muzzy brain was not capable of feeling miserable or any other emotion, and instead of grief-based insomnia as she'd feared, she fell fast asleep.

But making love with Byakuya was still the last thought she had, before unconsciousness claimed her.

 

* * *

 

Byakuya woke when the avian residents of the trees encircling the clearing began to sing the song of their people, and at considerable volume, no less. He was confused for a few prolonged seconds, until he realized that he was not only outside, but seriously hung over. The trilling birdsong sounded like the cawing of demonic vultures from hell. He sat up and made the unpleasant discovery that while the front of his body was toasty warm, thanks to a quilt covering him, his back half was not only chilled but damp, too. 

In a rush, the events of the previous night flooded back to him. Orihime... music, dancing... Orihime, and the walk home... the stars, kissing Orihime... holding her close, laying beneath the moon, falling asleep with her in his arms. Byakuya stood and folded the quilt, smiling a little to think how it had to have been her to place it over him. He liked that she would fuss over him a bit. 

Where was she? He reached out with his senses and perceived her reiatsu was not on the estate, but elsewhere in Seireitei. Ah, but it was her first day of work, of course she'd have had to leave him and go to Fourth Division. Her reiatsu felt a bit ragged; without doubt she was likely feeling the same ill effects of drinking that he was. 

Byakuya recalled her instructions for dealing with hangover, and strode as purposefully as he dared (every footstep felt like a bolt of lightning striking his unfortunate body) back to the house to commence. He washed down the prescribed willow bark tablets with as much water as he could hold, then stepped into the hottest bath he could endure. That over, he relieved himself and drank more water and was pleased to find that Orihime had spoken true: he felt worlds better in the space of an hour than he'd have believed possible. 

It was time for him to decide if he would work today or not. A lingering twinge behind his eyes answered the question. He would enjoy a few more hours of sleep, and perhaps would speak with the kitchens to prepare another sumptuous dinner to celebrate Orihime's first day of work. Wrapped in a sleeping yukata, he sent Renji a butterfly to instruct the lieutenant to carry on without him for the day, then made his way to his sleeping chamber. He slid the door shut behind him and came to a sudden halt at the sight of what had been deposited on his futon.

There, propped up against the pillow, was the Seaweed Ambassador that Orihime had been sewing for him, now complete. A broad grin broke over Byakuya's face at the sight of it. He knelt on the futon and picked up the doll, running his fingertips over it in wonder as emotions surged through him: fondness for his favorite childhood toy, memories of his father giving him his first Ambassador plushie and how it had been his constant companion until he'd become too old for such a thing; it had been packed away with care and still squatted in its box in some storage room somewhere.

And then, omnipresent: love. How absurd that he was this grateful for some kindness shown him; how fitting that he should feel this much of it for the grace and compassion she had given him. Her presence in his life had halted the calcifying descent toward apathy he had begun with Hisana's death. He placed the doll to the side of the futon and peeled back the covers, thinking to get in and sleep, and that was when he saw the slip of paper. 

_Ah, she left a note._ His heart leapt in anticipation of reading her words; what would she say? Would this be a love note? He had heard that they could be things of profound feeling, and had thought to perhaps pen one of his own to Orihime, when he had the right to address her so. Did last night count as the threshold to such a situation? He eagerly unfolded the page and began to read.

_Kuchiki-taichou,_

_I'm glad you attended the party last night, it seemed like you had a good time with the other captains!_

_Thank you so much for allowing me to stay here in your beautiful home!_ _Our time together was nice,_ _and I'm glad we were able to become friends._

_I moved this morning_   _into my quarters at the Fourth Division, and I'll be really busy from now on, so we_ _w_ _on't see much of_ _each other anymore, apart from official Gotei business._

_I hope you keep taking a day off every week to enjoy yourself! It's important to relax sometimes!_

_With regards,_

_Inoue Orihime, MD"_

Byakuya stared down at the paper for a full minute after having read the last word, then bolted to his feet and down the hall to Orihime's bedroom. It was completely empty, devoid of even the futon spread over the tatami; Orihime had neatly rolled it and tucked it away inside the closet in the corner. He could feel the faint hum of her residual reiatsu, present after she had lived there for so long, but the empty floor and bare walls, barren of her neat stacks of clothing and the cheerful clutter of everyday life, gave final punctuation to the cold fact that she had, in fact, left him. 

 He realized, at some point, that his hand was trembling so that the page, still held between his finger, was vibrating. Disbelief fought and won over anger and pain for supremacy, at that moment: disbelief that Orihime could be so dismissive, disbelief that he could feel this level of anger toward her, disbelief that her dismissal could hurt this much. Pride struggled to enter the fray, as well; she dared to dismiss him, and by note instead of in person, no less? 

He would go to her, he would insist upon a proper explanation, he would kiss her until she came to her senses, because there was no way-- _no way_ \-- she could respond to him as she had without returning, at least in some small way, the regard he felt for her...

But no. She had left him; no, she had _absconded_ from him. Her letter had indicated she would be avoiding him from now on. Byakuya had moved too quickly for her last night, had scared her off, and now his pride was horrified at the idea of chasing her down and begging her to come back to him, though that debasing act was his strongest impulse at that low moment. 

So, it had happened again. He had fallen in love with another woman who would not love him back. He wondered, absently, if Orihime's reticence was due to lingering sentiment for Kurosaki Ichigo.   He wondered, less absently, if there were a way for him to assist her in putting the orange-haired human out of her head and heart so she could turn them both toward himself.

_No, you fool_ , he told himself, his mental tone scathing. She had made it clear in this damned note that she wanted nothing to do with him. She had had a pleasant interlude with him, in his home, but now she was ready to move on, and move on she had. Anger resurfaced. Had he so misjudged her, that she would be so shallow? So unable to see how the changes she had wrought in him could draw him toward her? So blind to how he had come to feel? 

He was worse than a fool, he was an imbecile. He had mistaken the oblivious kindness of a compassionate woman as romantic interest and genuine sentiment, had allowed himself to hope that she could come to love him. Of course she had not. He was stoic to the point of impassivity, detached to the point of apathy, devoid of humor and charm. His looks and wealth had not been sufficient to make up for this deficiency of personality. He called for a servant. 

"Byakuya-sama?" A maid stood at the door to Orihime's room-- would he ever think of it as 'guest room 14' again? doubtful-- awaiting her master's command.

"Inoue-san has removed herself from the estate," Byakuya informed the maid. "Have the room scoured."

"S-- scoured?" The maid's eyes rounded in confusion at his strong language.

"No," Byakuya corrected himself, "replace the tatami, fusuma, shoji... burn the futon. Burn them all. The room will be completely redone."

"Y-- yes, Byakuya-sama," the maid whispered, and backed away to do his bidding. 

Byakuya returned to his own room, where another servant was putting away the fresh shihakushou that had been laid out the night before, and replacing it with a set of civilian clothing in shades of blue and gold. 

"The shihakushou," he told the man, holding out one imperious hand for the stack of garments. Once dressed, he went to his division, startling Renji, who had been daydreaming with his feet up on his desk and his hands clasped behind his head.

"Taichou!" Renji exclaimed, hurrynig to place his feet on the floor and groping blindly for a pen with one hand and some paperwork with the other. "I thought you were taking the day off."

Byakuya only shot him an unfriendly glance and seated himself at his own desk, withdrawing the materials for writing from a drawer and beginning the process for preparing his ink. The rote actions would, he hoped, help him focus on anything but the hollow ache in his chest. 

"Uh, Taichou," Renji began awkwardly, "is something wrong? You seem, uh--"

"If you do not shut your mouth and get to work right now, I will kill you." Byakuya did not lift his gaze from the stone where he ground the inkstick in rhythmic circles, nor did he raise the volume of his voice. Still, his murderous intent communicated itself to his lieutenant, because Renji paled, eyes widening in shock. He opened his mouth to agree, then thought better of it, and bent his red head with haste over a stack of documents.

It was scarcely an hour later when Renji whispered an excuse to the bathroom; he was gone but minutes, and not long afterwards, Rukia appeared. "Nii-sama," she began, but fell silent when he looked up from his paperwork. He had no idea what he looked like, what tale his face told; as far as he was aware, it held the blank sameness as always, in fact felt numb and empty.

But Rukia's face went from concerned and inquiring to horrified. It seemed he was in worse shape than he thought. Trying to distract himself was not working.

"I'm sorry, Nii-sama," is all she ended up saying. What had she guessed, in those few, silent, fraught moments? Whatever it was, it had caused sorrow to etch itself as deeply on her face as Byakuya felt had been engraved on his heart. She went to Renji's desk and collected all his paperwork. "Renji will do these at the Thirteenth with me."

"Rukia, what--" Renji began, his face confused and alarmed at the same time. It was not a good look for him.

"Just come _on_ ," she hissed, latching her tiny hand around his wrist and flash-stepping them out of the building.

Ah, solitude. Byakuya no longer had to have so rigid a grip over himself, now. He felt the usual straight set of his shoulders slump into something shameful and bowed, and the frozen stiffness of his face muscles went suddenly, shockingly lax. His mouth dropped open; he realized he was gasping, gasping with mouth open and eyes wide from the effort not to weep. His chest felt similar to when Ichimaru Gin's sword had pierced him. That had hurt less, he recalled.

Byakuya used his centuries of training, and breathed through the pain; at the same time, he controlled his reiatsu so its fluctuations would not alarm anyone enough to come sniffing around in curiosity. He fell into meditation, not the _jinzen_ that would send him to his Inner World-- how could he bear it, when his fondest memory of it was when Orihime had joined him there?-- but a basic Zen trance of counting to ten, then starting over. 

He spent the rest of the day counting to ten.

When it was time to go home, the idea of passing the evening in a meal with Rukia and Renji and their stifling pity choked him with revulsion. He went right to his study, refused dinner, and buried himself in clan business until he was so exhausted that he fell asleep at his desk and woke in the morning with a sore neck and the lingering memory of hope, before he recalled that Orihime was gone and he was a fool. 

The next day progressed much the same as the previous, with the exception that his face was apparently less horrifying, sufficient that Rukia permitted Renji to remain at his own desk. Whatever she had told him seemed to have worked, because he said not a word that was not work-related, and few of those. That evening, Byakuya again closeted himself in his study and refused dinner. 

Rukia went to him, once more expressed sorrow-- she had some idea of what had happened, clearly, though she never spoke about Orihime or anything else-- and entreated prettily for him to eat something. Byakuya nodded, just to please her, and permitted a servant to bring him a tray which he then ignored and had the servant remove after an hour.

An hour after _that_ , Renji stomped into the study, rejected tray in one huge mitt. He deposited it on Byakuya's desk with a distinct lack of gentleness.

"Listen," his lieutenant said, "I don't know what happened-- okay, I have an idea, but whatever-- but your not eating is upsetting Rukia. I don't much care if you starve to death, but I do care about her having to mourn you if you do. So eat something, dammit."

Then he slammed back out again. Byakuya put down his pen, picked up his chopsticks, and ate as much as he could bear. It wasn't much, but when Rukia came in again later, she beamed a smile of pure gladness at him. Byakuya thought with nostalgia of his life before anyone cared enough about him to be a bother; thirty years ago, when Rukia had still been too cowed by him to interfere in his life, Renji was not yet his lieutenant, and Orihime had not even been born yet... what a cold, sterile wasteland his life had been. It seemed a peaceful haven to him now. 

Tomorrow, he would inform Rukia that Renji was no longer welcome to join them for dinner. Perhaps he would even encourage her to relocate to her own quarters, reserved for her but unused, at the Thirteenth Division. The only people left at the estate then would the servants, who would follow any orders he gave, and the elders, who cared little if he lived or died. 

Then he could descend, once more, toward that crystalline stillness he'd been heading toward prior to all this upheaval in his life. From a distance, he could feel Senbonzakura's alarm and disquiet.

"It is well, my old friend," he murmured to his zanpakutou. "It will be well."

But Senbonzakura knew that he lied. 

Worse, _he_ knew that he lied, and despised himself for it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song, for both O and B, is Fallen by Sarah McLachlan.
> 
> "In the lonely light of morning  
> In the wound that would not heal  
> It's the bitter taste of losing everything  
> I've held so dear"

 

 

**_One Week Later_**

Byakuya was displeased when a knock sounded on his office door. Renji hopped up to answer it, but Byakuya had already recognized the reiatsu on the other side, and sighed on the inside. He had feared something like this.

After Ukitake Jyuushirou had greeted the lieutenant with his usual fatherly friendliness, he turned to his still-seated colleague, unbothered by the distinct lack of welcome on Byakuya's granite-blank face. "Ah, Byakuya-san! How are you? Have you had the opportunity to take a walk outside? It's a beautiful day!"

_Ugh._ "Can I assist you with something in particular, Ukitake-taichou?"

"Please, Byakuya-san, as I've asked for sixty years: call me Jyuushiro." He paired the words with an engaging smile as he sat in the chair opposite Byakuya's desk, in spite of receiving no invitation to do so. "And no, I just wanted to visit, perhaps talk a little."

Byakuya eyed him warily; Ukitake was a notorious busybody, never content to leave anyone alone if there was meddling to be accomplished. He stifled another sigh and resigned himself to enduring some intrusive questions. "Renji. Tea."

"Yes, Taichou!"

Once he had left, it was clear that Ukitake felt it was time to begin. "Byakuya-san, I have to confess, I am somewhat worried about you."

"Worried. About me." Unsaid:  _Why would you be worried about me of all people, you nosy old coot?_  But he was pretty sure his tone communicated it.

"You've shown steady improvement in, um, mood and, er, demeanor for the past decade. Since you told Rukia-chan about Hisana-sama." He looked apologetic to have to mention Byakuya's deceased wife.  _As well he ought to._

"Improving." Was Ukitake insane? Had he finally gone round the bend after two millennia coping with that lunatic best friend of his, Kyouraku?

"Some might call it... thawing. Yes, thawing. You have definitely been thawing since then." Ukitake sat back in his chair, looking more satisfied with himself than he had a right to be. Byakuya narrowed his eyes at the man, and the temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Ukitake paled visibly. "Though it's not quite discernable at the moment," he added, his voice faint. "And only those of us who have known you your entire life could be able to tell the difference."

Renji entered with tea at that point, and Byakuya was given a moment's reprieve from the torture of this conversation. A chilly glance at his lieutenant had Renji scurrying from the office at double-time. "Your point. I assume you have one."

"Of course!" Ukitake perked up a little, holding up a finger. "My point is that, you've been thawing for a decade. And then, just a few months ago, you started to thaw even more. You have become more social. No, that's not right," he contradicted himself, pursing his mouth in thought. "You've become less anti-social. Yes, that's more accurate. These past few months, you've become noticeably less anti-social."

"Utter falsehood."

Ukitake looked wounded. "It is  _not_  a falsehood. You came to Orihime-chan's welcome party and interacted with many people there. Byakuya-san, for the past four months... you  _talk_. More than just responses to pointed questions, and more than the absolute bare minimum economy of words. Complete sentences, sometimes!"

He gave a little sniffle, and Byakuya realized with horror that Ukitake was so pleased and proud of him that he was actually in tears. Byakuya tipped his tea into a nearby potted plant, then reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Junmai Daiginjou-shu, the highest quality  _sake_  available on the planet or any of its connected dimensions. Filling his now-empty teacup, he knocked back the alcohol in one go with a total lack of respect for its exalted pedigree, then peered over the cup at his unwelcome visitor. "If I'm such a miracle of improvement, wherefore your mission of mercy today?"

Ukitake's gaze tracked the motion of the sake bottle as Byakuya poured himself a refill before returning it to the drawer. Realizing he was stuck with tea, Ukitake sighed wistfully. "A week ago, you just reverted to your frosty old ways. It was like... like a candle blown out, it happened that quickly. And you've been this way ever since. It's... very noticeable, in contrast to how nicely you've warmed up in recent months."

He paused, as if knowing his next words would be volatile and wanting to distance himself from the speech grenade (as it were).

"As a consequence, various of us have become concerned for you," he continued, his tone gentle as he placed his teacup on the desk. "We have been so pleased to how you had seemed... happier lately. Dismayed that something has gone wrong in recent days. Wondering if we can help restore that happiness to you."

Byakuya carefully placed his own teacup/sake glass on the desk, because he was about to crush it to powder in his grip of doom. "You... have been discussing... my emotional state... with others?" He had to force the words past his clenched teeth.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Ukitake held up his hands, palms out; his head was shaking so fast that his white hair flew back and forth. "It was more that I noticed your change myself, and then I noticed how sad and worried Rukia-chan looks whenever you're mentioned. Abarai-fukutaichou, too. And poor Orihime-chan..."

"What about her?" Byakuya couldn't help himself; the words were out before his brain was aware he'd even thought them, let alone spoken them. But his tone was a frozen blade, hurtful even to his own ears.

Ukitake flinched. "Well, anyone who knows her well, knows that the more energetic she acts, the more miserable she actually is. And Isane-chan told Kiyone-chan that Orihime-chan has been so perky and cheerful this week that she's frightening the patients. And as she's seemed so content and calm since her death, it's a considerable change for her."

That broke something in Byakuya's chest, something unexpectedly malleable, something he hadn't realized he'd left unguarded. Orihime had been so upset by his actions the night of the party, so repulsed by his attentions, so bothered by him, that not only had she moved from the manor, but was still upset about it a week later? Love was a dream, and he was ridiculous, a fool for daring to hope it would ever be possible for him.

"Byakuya-san." Ukitake gently broke into his derogatory musings. His eyes were not on Byakuya's face, but lower; his brow was creased in concern. "Won't you please tell me what's wrong, and let me help you, if I can?"

Byakuya looked down, and found that his hand had lifted from the desk and was rubbing at his breastbone, just above where his kosode crossed in front. He'd been rubbing so hard, in fact, that the pale skin was quite reddened. It hadn't eased the pain underneath it, though. Byakuya poured the second glass of sake down his throat and pushed back from the desk to stand and stare out the window, his back rudely to his guest.

"Orihime doesn't love me," he said hoarsely, after bracing as if in preparation for ripping out a knife that had been plunged deep into his belly. "She knows that I--" He couldn't bring himself to say the words; they lodged in his throat like stones. "She knows, and  _fled_  from me."

Ukitake was silent a long time. Afternoon was giving way to evening, and shadows were lengthening with the angle of the setting sun. Neither of them moved to light a lamp.

"I'm so sorry, Byakuya-san," Ukitake said at last. "If you--"

"Go away," Byakuya interrupted him. "Go home. Go to hell. I don't care. Just go."

Another silence. Ukitake stood and murmured a farewell. He met Renji on his way out; Byakuya could hear him tell the lieutenant in a low voice to leave his captain alone and retire for the day. Renji sounded confused but let himself be convinced-- too easily, Byakuya thought, _that slacker_ \-- and the door slid shut, leaving him in peace.

No, not peace. Quiet, then. Byakuya poured himself a third teacup of sake, and sat in the growing dark, in silence that was as loud as a roar.

 

* * *

 

Byakuya was not the only one having an eventful week; Kurotsuchi Mayuri began sending daily reports to Yamamoto-soutaichou regarding an unusual number of Gillians being born in Hueco Mundo: according to the sensors he'd left in that hollow world, dozens more were coming into existence each day.

A week after that, a report came from East Rukongai that "some strangers" had appeared and asked some "odd questions". Anyone who'd refused to answer them or obstructed the strangers in any way had been killed. Seventh Division was assigned to investigate further.

Ten days after _that_ , Thirteenth Divison had a report from its shinigami stationed in the Living World that Karakura Town was experiencing a larger-than-usual number of not only Hollow appearances, but also of people unable to pass on naturally after their deaths, instead requiring konshou, with the result that the shinigami assigned to Karakura Town as well as Official Substitute Shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo and even volunteering Vizoreds were being run ragged trying to perform konshou on everyone dying in Karakura Town. Thirteenth Division had assigned an extra five shinigami to assist and stood ready to assign more if needed. 

Unease grew as days passed and no improvement or solution was found. Yamamoto-soutaichou began having daily captain and lieutenant meetings to disseminate information. After two more weeks, investigative away teams began to be sent out not only to the Living World but Rukongai. When they started coming back in rough shape, upon encountering roving bands of Hollows and Gillians, Yamamoto made it policy for each team to be assigned a healer from the Fourth to go along and provide on-site triage. Everyone liked that idea, until it appeared that once the Hollows learned the teams had medics along, their attacks became even more vicious. 

The teams began experiencing fatalities; stronger shinigami were needed to win the battles, and stronger healers needed to keep the death counts down. Soon, Orihime found herself being assigned to teams heading into areas reported to be infested with Gillians and Hollows. She was intensely glad she'd trained so hard with her fairies. One of her shikai's newer talents was the ability for each fairy to be able to perform all three roles of protection, healing, and attack (though only one of them at a time), and Orihime was sometimes finding herself treating one poor soul with kidou as each of her fairies went off to heal wounded soldiers. So far, she'd been doing pretty well and had kept anyone from dying. 

The Gotei senkaimon became the busiest place in Seireitei, with teams arriving and departing at all hours. The Fourth Division set up a field hospital there, to treat wounded who came through the gate after a battle as soon as possible. Unohana tried to alternate days there with days on away teams for her division's members so no one was placed too often in danger. The attacks were stepping up in frequency and duration; the roving bands of Hollows began to include Adjuchas, and lieutenants, then captains, began to lead away teams.

Orihime saw quite a bit of Byakuya as he left on or returned from a mission. Each time he left, she'd prayed he'd return whole and hale; each time he returned, she'd sent up another prayer of thanks, and offered him an oblivious smile in response to the heated glares he sent her as he strode by.

"He hates me," she whispered to herself in sorrow one such time, thinking those burning glances were of fury.

"I don't think that's the case at _all_ , my dear," replied Unohana, unexpectedly close and able to overhear as she healed her own patient. Orihime was skeptical, but then Orihime didn't know how Byakuya had requested another private meeting with Unohana the previous week.

"With respect, I ask that you refrain from sending Inoue-sensei on away missions," he had said once she'd admitted him to her office. 

Unohana had tilted her head, considering him. "Inoue-sensei was aware of the risks of becoming a soldier in a standing army. I do not see how I can keep her out of harm's way when the rest of my division is placing themselves at risk."

He met her gaze with his own, unflinching. "Do you require me to beg? I will kneel, if you insist." And to her astonishment, he began to sink toward the floor.

Eyes wide, Unohana held up one hand, stalling his descent. "That will not be necessary. I... will offer her the choice of remaining her in Soul Society instead of participating in away teams. That is the most I can do."

They had stared at each other a long moment, each knowing that Orihime would refuse such an offer. But Unohana could do no differently. Byakuya was a captain as well, and understood. 

Unohana had indeed left the decision up to Orihime, and Orihime had predictably protested the unfairness of such an arrangement. However, Unohana was not above a bit of manipulation; all it took was a mention or two of how valuable Orihime was to the field hospital at the senkaimon, and Orihime was soon spending three-quarters of her time there instead of out somewhere in danger. 

Despite Orihime's fervent prayers, the day arrived when the team from the Sixth Division met with complications. Orihime was in the back of one of the field hospital's tents trying to catch a nap between patients when the ring of an incoming call from a denreishinki* woke her from her doze. Blindly, she groped for it, flipped it open, and croaked, "This is Fourth Division! How can I--"

"Orihime-chan! Good," interrupted Renji. "We got ambushed. Adjuchas, lots of them. Took a lot of damage. We're coming in hot, be ready at the gate."

"Ah! I will! Thanks for letting me know!" Orihime replied, her free hand already waving frantically at her fellow healers outside the tent to shoo them toward the senkaimon. 

"And Orihime-chan..." Renji continued, his voice sounding uncertain even over the crackling reception of the phone, "don't panic." Then he hung up.

_Don't panic?_ Orihime stared at the phone in confusion for a second-- why would she panic?-- until she realized he meant that Byakuya had been injured. Then, of course, she panicked, and began throwing every single thing in her immediate vicinity into her medical backpack (a tin of mints? a small clock? an empty sandwich wrapper? all went in the backpack). When she heard the _whoosh_ of energy that signaled the senkaimon had opened, she left the tent at a dead run. 

Renji exited first, with a dozen of their division's soldiers, the healthier ones assisting the more wounded to walk. Renji himself had one guy slung over a shoulder and was dragging another with an arm around the man's waist. Medics rushed up and relieved him of his burdens. Orihime barely spared him a glance, because Byakuya was bringing up the rear, and by the looks of it, was in bad shape. His captain's haori was missing (again) and gore soaked his hair and half his face and throat down to his shoulder. One leg of his hakama was shredded into tatters, exposing his bloody limb from mid-thigh down. 

Orihime felt a spasm of terrified nausea and wrapped an arm around her middle, but did not break stride. She was almost to Renji; just a few dozen steps past him, and she'd have reached Byakuya-- her eyes locked with his, her frantic, his _burning_ at her again--

"Hey, Orihime-chan!" Renji caught her up against his side as she was about to pass him. "You're sure a sight for sore eyes. And sore everything else! Haha!"

"Renji-kun, let me go!" she hissed, fighting him, but his grip was iron and he just kept walking away them from the gate and Byakuya. Over his burly shoulder, she could see Byakuya watching them intently as he limped forward. 

Renji's laugh rang out, causing heads to turn toward them. "You ran that fast just to come heal me! That's what I call service!"

"Renji-kun, let me go to him!" she demanded again, this time thumping him in the chest as hard as she could. "He needs me!"

He winced as she hit a particularly painful spot, but only pulled her close enough to growl at her, "Pull it together. He'll be fine. You're going to blow everything."

Orihime went still and stared at him. He shot her a knowing glance and continued to trudge toward one of the triage tents. "You know?" she whispered.

Renji nodded shortly. "Rukia told me. There's too many people here who would blab to the elders. Half the soldiers in our division are noble; they'd gossip in a heartbeat. Now calm the fuck down. Isane-san is here: look. She's already going to him." Indeed, the Fourth's lieutenant was advancing on Byakuya and had begun healing him while he still walked. 

She chanced another look over his shoulder to find Byakuya had come to a halt, stoic as he ignored Isane's entreaties to be carried on a pallet, preferring instead to stare at Orihime. She reined herself in with sheer force of will, the threat of the elders doing what not much else could have. "Okay," she said finally, bowing her head in defeat. "Okay."

"Good girl." Renji released her and steered them into the closest empty tent. He dropped down on a pallet and huffed out a weary breath. "Now do you think you could you heal me? Cuz I feel like shit."

 

* * *

 

As Byakuya recovered from his injuries, having refused the hospitality of Fourth Division in favor of the comfort of his own home, he found himself greatly intrigued by that little scene between Renji and Orihime, greatly intrigued indeed. 

It was clear that Orihime had been frantic to get to him, and 'frantic' was not an adjective generally applied to one's reaction when a mere friendly acquaintance is injured. Now that the first haze of misery had blown by him, and that his injuries had afforded him a now-rare day free of work and battle, he was able to think with a bit more objectivity about Orihime. He'd been in her very _soul_ , for god's sake. He _knew_ her, better than anyone else. 

And _because_ he knew her, he knew that she was not flighty or haphazard as she could sometimes act. He knew that she would walk a mile out of her way to avoid hurting someone's feelings; hell, she blamed herself for misfortunes that had nothing whatsoever to do with her. He also knew himself; he was not prone to fights of fancy, or of imagining things that were not there. He _knew_ that she was not as unaffected as she pretended. The night when he'd removed her shoes, lust had shimmered between them, almost a tangible thing. The sensuality and emotion inherent in their kisses  had not been things he read into the situation.

Orihime cared for him as a woman cared for a man, might even be in love with him. It made no sense for her to dismiss the sentiment that had built between them. It made no sense for her to scamper off in the middle of the night and leave only a ridiculously light-hearted, dismissive note in her wake. It made no sense for her to avoid him, because as he had been in her soul, she had been in his. 

She knew she had no reason to fear or avoid him. _And_ she'd known him for over ten years; if his personality hadn't repelled her at the beginning, why then should it now? She had made it a point of mentioning, several times, how pleasant and amusing she found his company. She'd expressed pleasure in discussing deeper subjects with him; she'd declared her contentment in spending time with him, living in his home, sharing his meals and his free time. 

And since he knew her, he knew Orihime was no liar. No, there was more afoot than some supposed disinterest on her part. 

She was feigning indifference to him. 

The question remained: _why_. Byakuya tamped down the hope that sprang up to race rampant through him, and set his not-inconsiderable intellect to the task of discerning the basis of the puzzle. He had an idea that his sister was involved somehow, or at least aware of the root of the issue. 

Unfortunately, she was as busy as he in leading teams through Rukongai and the Living World to combat the Hollow attacks; he had not seen her in almost a week, and then only for the amount of time it took her to shovel in a meal before collapsing into bed for some much-needed rest. He vowed that the next time they were both in the same place at the same time, he would insist she reveal all to him.

Despite all the blood that had been on him, Byakuya's wounds had been minor and Isane's healing excellent, and it was but a single day before he was recovered and had been cleared by Unohana to return to his duties (though she insisted he wait another full day before returning to battle). He fell, that second night, into an easy sleep where he dreamed of Orihime visiting him in his Inner World once more.

Not long thereafter, the sky rent and split. Two black maws opened, vomiting out a host of white bones. Out beyond the furthest reaches of Rukongai, the earth thundered and roared; it was torn and scraped, a womb being deprived of its contents, left gaping and mangled. In the Living World, a city was scoured, and when the prize it sought was not found, destruction was gleefully wrought.

And then all was quiet.

In the Eleventh Division, Zaraki Kenpachi woke from a sound sleep and scratched his head. He got to his feet and went out into the hallway in time for Yachiru, Ikkaku, and Yumichika to spill from their respective quarters.

"...the fuck was that?" demanded Ikkaku.

"Get two dozen men. Go to the Twelfth, learn where it was, then get out there and see what happened," Kenpachi told him.

"We should stop by the Fourth and get a medic or two on the way," Yumichika commented, combing his hair with his fingers. "This felt... bad. We'll need heals."

Kenpachi grunted. "Whatever. Just go."

They didn't have to go far; they were met on the way into Twelfth Division's main building by Nemu on her way out.

"Madarame-san!" Ikkaku might be going crazy, but did she sound... pleased? She definitely didn't sound as toneless as she usually did.

"What do you know?" he demanded. 

"I have been instructed to give a report to Yamamoto-soutaichou," she replied, watching him with an unblinking gaze, her eyes fixed on his face and oddly soft. 

Okay, this was officially bizarre, but there was no time to figure out the weirdness that was Kurotsuchi Nemu just then. "Have you also been instructed that you  _can't_ tell anyone else?"

She paused. "No," she allowed.

"Then  _tell_  me!" If Ikkaku had hair, he'd be pulling it out by that point.

"A significant disturbance has been noted." She informed them of the location. "Will you be investigating?"

"Yeah. Tell ol' Yamamoto that, too."

She nodded, and with one last glance that seemed to Ikkaku to linger just a little more than it ought to have, they separated, she toward First Division, and he and Yumi to the Fourth.


	23. Chapter 23

Orihime came awake in the space between one heartbeat and the next, eyes flying wide at the sensation of garganta opening somewhere in Soul Society. She jackknifed into sitting up and flung away her quilt, shedding her pajamas and scrambling into her shihakusho. This could be bad, very bad. Her healing abilities were sure to be needed.

Hanatarou's reiatsu raced toward her; she shoved open the door with her elbow while tying her hair up into a ponytail and poked her head into the hallway.

"It's all hands on deck! They're sending out teams to investigate!" Hanatarou informed her, breathless, his eyes the size of saucers.

"I'm ready." She snatched her medical supply bag off the chair and began to run from the building with him, buckling the bag around her as she went.

The courtyard was chaotic, with soldiers from what seemed like all thirteen divisions milling about as teams were assembled in haste. Orihime spotted Ikkaku craning his neck to peer over all the heads, in search of someone. When his eyes fell on her and his face brightened, she realized he'd been looking for her. He powered through the masses to reach her.

"We need you," he told her without preamble.

"You've got me!" she replied, forcing a bit of cheer though her insides were in tumult. "I'll keep everyone in one piece!"

The Eleventh's team was headed by Ikkaku and Yumichika, with twenty-two other lower-ranked shinigami.

"What we find will probably be some heavy shit," Ikkaku informed them in his version of a pep talk. "I'm leading half of us to one location, Yumi's taking the other half to the second."

He reached past Orihime and yanked Hanatarou into the big circle formed by the group of shinigami. "Orihime-chan and this little shrimp are our medics, and it's the responsibility of every damned one of you to protect them. If they get hurt, you better pray an Arrancar kills your ass, cuz otherwise I will."

"Or me," Yumichika added prettily. Orihime felt touched at their concern, though it was probably more of a case of 'if the healers can't heal, we're all screwed' on their part.

"Everyone ready?" Ikkaku glanced at Orihime, who gave a quick nod. "Okay, let's go!"

 

* * *

 

An hour after the cataclysmic-seeming, mysterious event, the captains met at First Division.

"Doubtless many of you have felt disturbances and unusual presences in reiatsu earlier tonight," Yamamoto began.

"A garganta," said Kenpachi. He was very proud to have been able to recognize the sensation of one, and to contribute some intel. It didn't happen often.

" _Two_ garganta," murmured Byakuya. He felt Kenpachi's irritation to be corrected, and smiled on the inside.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Yamamoto said sourly, not sounding appreciative in the least. "Two garganta did indeed open from Hueco Mundo less than a half-hour ago. Kurotsuchi-taichou?"

The scientist took over with alacrity. "Our sensors detected the first garganta was in East Rukongai, District 41."

Byakuya closed his eyes, sifting through his memories. Why was District 41 nudging at him? Something about it was important...

Mayuri continued, "The second garganta opened at almost the same time, far outside Rukongai's boundaries." 

The sudden alertness that arose among the captains said that they were aware of the significance of the location.

"The prison..." breathed Shinji.

"Aizen," Hitsugaya growled.

"Gone," pronounced Yamamoto, his face grim.

"Destroyed?" Ukitake's eyes were huge, his narrow face tight and pale.

"Not destroyed. Just  _gone_. All eight levels, scooped from the earth and taken away, I presume to Hueco Mundo. Sensors are indicating it was  _Negaci_ ó _n_ ," Mayuri said. "Which explains the massive number of Gillians born in recent months. It would have taken all of their combined powers of  _Negaci_ ó _n_ to scrape the prison out of the ground, then open a garganta large enough to fit the prison through."

There was utter quiet. Not a single mouth spoke; scarcely a heart beat in the moment following that news.

Then the doors of the meeting chamber flew open. Unhindered in the slightest by the four guards trying in vain to restrain him, Kurosaki Ichigo strode in, shouting, "What the fucking  _fuck_  is going on?"

All eyes turned to rest upon him in numb silence.

"What is the nature of  _your_ problem, Kurosaki?" rumbled Yamamoto.

Ichigo shrugged off the clinging guards, who took Yamamoto's question for acceptance of the intruder and slunk away. "I just lost another friend when an entire fucking  _platoon_ of Arrancar showed up and blasted Inoue's apartment building into rubble. They've torn Karakura Town apart searching for her."

Byakuya's eyes went wide as the nudging memory clicked in his brain. "District 41 is where she incarnated after  _konshou_ ," he said, his gaze flying to Ichigo's.

"They want her again," Ichigo growled. "Dammit. Where is she now?"

"She has been dispatched with an investigative team from the Eleventh," said Unohana, looking dismayed.

Byakuya and Ichigo exchanged another glance, then flash-stepped from the room.

"Captains," said Yamamoto, sounding tired, "we are on full alert. Mobilize your divisions." He leant heavily on his staff. "To battle stations."

 

* * *

 

 

Yumichika's group, with Hanatarou, went to investigate the site of the garganta in Rukongai. Orihime was with the group that went to investigate the garganta at the prison site, headed by Ikkaku. She was never so happy she'd learned and practiced shunpou than at that moment; still, she almost wasn't able to keep up with the killing pace he set. Hanatarou had at last learned shunpou, too, and she could only hope that his was fast enough to keep Yumichika from slaying him in impatience.

While they traveled, Orihime's thoughts wandered. Ukitake-taichou had approached her in the past week to tell her that his family had a house out in the 50th District of South Rukongai. No one ever used it, but it was always kept stocked and guarded, and since she was always out there healing at the free clinic, wouldn't she please stay there instead of making the long trek back home to Seireitei? He was such a dear worrywart, she thought with a smile. 

She'd gladly taken him up on his offer, and spent her first weekend at the Rukongai house recently. It was in perfect condition, and very comfortable, the exterior a warm golden-yellow color while the interior was cozy and warm, especially appreciated now that summer had waned and autumn was finally asserting itself. The cook/housekeeper was a motherly woman named Narahashi-san who kept trying to make Orihime as plump as she was, insisting on second dinner portions and encouraging her to sleep early and wake late. 

Orihime was looking forward to going there again next weekend, and all the others-- it was good to have something to fill the endless, empty hours since she'd left the Kuchiki estate. Her friends in the Gotei 13 had all entreated her to do things with them, Rangiku especially, but all the men wanted to do was either spar or play soccer; the women tended to have quiet hobbies like embroidery, reading, or ikebana-- Rangiku's preference for getting shitfaced from Friday afternoon until midnight on Sunday notwithstanding-- and while Orihime enjoyed those things, there was only so often she could do them before she wanted to scream in boredom. 

And without access to the Kuchiki senkaimon, she had no way to traverse the dangai to visit the Living World-- use of the Gotei's senkaimon was restricted to official business and Orihime had no good reason to use it beyond "I really want to go to a movie and maybe an amusement park". She felt certain Yamamoto-soutaichou would not be sympathetic to her plight. 

She wondered how Byakuya was doing; after healing Renji and anyone else that needed help, she had hovered at the door of the tent where Isane had been tending Byakuya, listening to any hint as to the extent of his injuries and if her talents were needed to reject something regular healing kidou could not. Fortunately, none of his wounds were life-threatening, with only a deep slice to the hairline and a long one up his leg, plus a broken knee. 

Isane was able to heal the cuts right away, but the knee injury would take a few weeks at least... unless Orihime could manage a sneaky move. As soon as Isane left to fetch some analgesic medicine to ease Byakuya's pain, Orihime sent her fairies in and had them slip under the blanket draped over him, establishing their healing glow under cover of secrecy. When his knee was almost healed-- she couldn't remove _all_ of the injury, or it would be suspicious how such a miraculous recovery had occurred-- she chanced one last glance into the tent. He lay back against a pillow, the harsh lines of pain erased, but he still seemed so sad. Orihime knew the reason why, and felt a stab of guilt. At least she had been able to soothe his body, if not his mind and soul. 

"We're here," Ikkaku called to his men and Orihime as they passed over the far border of Zaraki District into the wasteland beyond. This area was barren and flat, devoid of vegetation, and bore an unnerving similarity to Hueco Mundo's bleak landscape. They could see the attack site long before they arrived; where the prison had been was now nothing but an immense crater.

As they put foot to earth, Orihime scanned the environs for wounded. There were several dozen guards in varying states of injury around the perimeter of the crater. Some appeared only superficially hurt, and were trying to help others in worse states. Some dark figures on the ground did not move at all.

Orihime touched Ikkaku's arm. "Can you have the men gather up the wounded and put them in one spot? It will be easier for me to treat them."

He nodded. "Easier for me to question them, too." He began shouting. "You lot, get everyone together over here! I want every single one of them by Orihime-san in ten minutes, no excuses!"

As the Eleventh began delivering the wounded to her, Orihime performed triage and had them placed in order of severity. Once all were in place, she activated  _Souten Kisshun_  with a thought. The six sparks sprang from her zanpakutou and formed a large round shield of healing that bathed the men on the ground in golden light.

Meanwhile, Ikkaku was firing questions at those guards who were conscious enough to answer him, and not getting far, because the most any of them could recall was "a loud explosion" before being knocked unconscious by the sound and force of it, then waking to find the prison just... gone.

The more wounded guards had been closer, and presumably knew more, but when Ikkaku tried to get answers from them, Orihime interceded.

"Ikkaku-kun, let me finish healing them first," she said with a little smile.

"Tch, Orihime-chan, the sooner they spill, the sooner I can figure out what to do next--"

"Ikkaku-kun," she repeated, turning her face from the healing shield to look at him, her smile wider, "please let me finish."

He frowned, taking a step back quite against his will. "She's learning that scary polite thing from Unohana-taichou," he muttered to himself.

In reality, Orihime wanted some quiet with her thoughts, which were racing, panicked like a rabbit scrambling from a wolf. She'd thought the situation with Aizen-sama was finished forever, that she could put it out of her mind and move on with her life. The entire frail tenure of her sanity was based on the premise that everything she'd endured in Hueco Mundo-- the beatings by Loly and Menoly, Ulquiorra's mind games, the experimentation by Szayel, Nnoitra's sexual assault-- all of it was  _over_ , in the distant past to remain there forever, where she could pretend it had happened to someone else or not at all.

If it wasn't over... if there was more to come... she had to be strong, so she could fight back, but how? The very idea of going back to Hueco Mundo made her flesh ripple with revulsion. Thinking of being in any proximity to an Arrancar or worse, an Espada, their immense power crawling over her skin, made her feel faint.

_Oh, god,_   she thought, despairing.  _Sora-nii-san. Please help me. I have to do this. Help me be strong enough to do this._

 

* * *

 

Within fifteen minutes, dawn was beginning to lighten the heavens. Orihime had gotten all but the most wounded stabilized, and was still working on those with the worst injuries.

Ikkaku grilled everyone but to his frustration learned little: a massive garganta had opened right over the prison, and about a dozen Arrancar, accompanied by _hundreds_ of Gillians, had spilled from it. They all joined together to cause a colossal yellow square of  _Negación_  to shoot down, surrounding the prison. The earth had trembled and quaked as it was torn and the yellow energy forced itself deeper.

Then the prison had begun to rise up the  _Negación_ column toward the gaping maw of the garganta using an amount of reiatsu that had had the guards either vomiting and convulsing, or passing out altogether. Once it had passed through the garganta, the Arrancar and Gillian followed it through the rift, and that was that.

Ikkaku had just sent one of his men back to Seireitei to update Kenpachi on what little they'd learned, and request Fourth Division's help in transporting the injured back to the relief station, when Yumichika and his half of the team arrived.

"There were wounded in District 41, so I left that little healer to take care of them and then follow us here," said Yumichika. "Something odd happened there... the people described beings like Arrancar hopping out of a garganta and asking about a woman. Said they could feel her reiatsu from when she incarnated there after dying." His wisteria-colored eyes flicked over to where Orihime was watching their conversation while healing the injured guards. "They specified they wanted a young woman who could make shields."

Orihime twitched;  _Souten Kisshun_  almost faltered, but she got herself under control and strengthened it. 

"Orihime-chan," Ikkaku said, "you got any idea why they're looking for you?"

Her mind raced through all the possibilities. "All I can think of is, if they went to such extremes to get Aizen-sama back... and they're searching for me, too...  I bet that they want me to restore him to a more powerful state, before he was weakened enough to be subdued and captured." By the time she finished, she realized her voice was shaking so hard that it had become a mere croak.

"Then we just won't let them take you," said Yumichika, his smile reassuring.

Orihime heard a faint whine, carried by the wind. Behind Yumichika's handsome face she saw a black line crawl across the sky, then split open and rend it asunder.

"I don't know if you'll have much of a choice," she whispered, staring past him at it.

His smile fell, and he and Ikkaku whirled around to see what she was looking at.

"Oh, fuck me," Ikkaku breathed.

The whine grew louder, shriller, until it was a shriek that was far too familiar to her. Long, skeletal fingers slid out to crack it wider open, and the pointed masks of Gillian-class Hollows thrust themselves through, using the bulk of their bodies to smash apart the barrier between the worlds.

"Hey, just a bunch of Gillians. We can handle that, no problem." Ikkaku's bloodthirsty grin was back in place.

"Maybe you'll find us to be more of a challenge, baldy," shouted a female voice from the lip of the garganta, its owner posing jauntily as a stream of Adjuchas followed the Gillians through. An answering laugh from the other side of the garganta confirmed both members of the due were present. 

_Move, legs!_  Orihime thought.  _Move, arms!_  She had to move, had to protect her patients, the other shinigami, herself. But no part of her was listening to her commands; the terror pulsing through her veins was blocking all communication from her brain to everything else.

She'd thought Loly and Menoly were dead. So many of the Arrancar were gone, why couldn't they be, too? But no, the reasons she always felt that frisson of fear when she laid her head on her pillow each night, because she could never quite forget that they could wake her at any moment and begin another vicious beating for no reason at all, were alive and emerging from the garganta  above her, grinning down in a way that promised oceans of suffering.

The team of shinigami from the 11th Division launched themselves at the encroaching invasion, and Ikkaku and Yumichika closed ranks in front of Orihime.

"You can't let them take me," she managed to whisper past lips frozen with fear.

"Tch, we know that," Ikkaku snapped, irritable.

"No, you don't understand." She took a deep breath, and started over. "They're strong, and there are more of them than us. If you see that our side is losing, you have to-- you have to kill me."

Both he and Yumichika whipped their heads around to face her. "Are you out of your fucking mind?" Ikkaku demanded.

"You can't let them have me!" she told him, her hands fisting in each of their kosode. "They have Aizen-sama now. If they get me, they'll break me again, make me restore Aizen-sama... the war will have been for  _nothing_. And this time, it will be worse. So you have to kill me, Ikkaku-kun, Yumichika-kun. You  _have_  to."

They exchanged a glance before looking back at her, studying a face that Orihime knew must be ugly with fright and apprehension, eyes bulging, mouth open and panting.

"Promise me you'll do this," she persisted, yanking on them. "Promise me!"

Ikkaku peeled her hand from his kosode. "I promise," he agreed, "but I don't like it."

Her gaze went to Yumichika. He nodded. "I promise. But if it comes to that..." His brows drew together. "Will you want us to tell anyone... anything?"

"Last words?" Orihime said. He nodded again. "Not really. Just... just tell everyone that I love them."

That had Ikkaku giving a snort of laughter. "Everyone, huh? Even ol' Kuchiki-taichou-dono-sama?"

" _Especially_ him," she whispered, dropping her forehead to rest against his back as pain howled through her. She could never be with him, could never let him know that she loved him, but she could save him. She  _would_ save him, either with defeating Loly and Menoly and their host of fiends, or with her own death. He and everyone else she loved would be safe. She made that promise to herself.

"She's stronger than your average Adjuchas. And mean. And tricky. Be careful," she mumbled into Ikkaku's kosode. He just snorted, unsheathed Houzukimaru, and launched himself into the mass of Hollows coming their way. 

Thus commenced their battle, with the 11th division doing their considerable best to mow down the opposing forces while Orihime sent out her fairies to shield, heal, or wreak havoc as needed. It was not easy for Orihime to keep track of all six fairies at once, and she considered using her bankai for a moment before apprehension had her nixing the idea. She'd never used it outside her Inner World, and it had been difficult enough to control there, where it couldn't do any real damage. With the shinigami seeming to be everywhere at once, she'd never get a clean shot and her bankai would wreak havoc with terrible consequences.

But her misgivings were mounting; despite her fairies blocking and healing, and the odd opportunities they had to shoot themselves in an offensive attack, it was clear that even the practiced fighters of the 11th were struggling against the sheer quantity of Hollows. There had been at least a hundred Gillians, and a dozen Adjuchas, and while the shinigami were making serious inroads in those numbers, the Hollows were similarly decimating the 11th's ranks. Of the 24 who had started the fight, only five remained besides Ikkaku and Yumichika, and they were starting to tire. 

And Loly still stood at the open garganta, sometimes cheering her fellow Hollows or jeering at a shinigami who managed to defeat one, but never making a move toward anyone. It was fraying Orihime's nerves to a thread, as was the mystery of Menoly's location; the other Numéro had not made an appearance at all so far. 

Ikkaku went into bankai and started doing some real destruction; Yumichika's Ruri'iro Kujaku's tendrils were snaking all over the battlefield; together, they were making some serious inroads on the numbers of Hollows. Loly straightened from her slouch at the garganta and took a leisure stroll toward the fighting men.

"Well," she drawled, "I guess it's my turn."

She began to hack her way through the remaining shinigami. Orihime could see the mad light in Loly's eyes as she slashed her way ever closer, and a bolt of nervous nausea streaked through her. 

Ikkaku materialized between them, grinning as he swung his massive zanpakutou into action. "Oy, woman!" he called to Loly, spinning Houzukimaru around over his head to charge the central blade. "You wouldn't be half-bad looking if you weren't out-of-your-head crazy."

Loly hissed in fury and rocketed toward him, hacking at him savagely, but he kept either deflecting her blows or dodging her altogether. She huffed in impatience after Ikkaku landed a slice across her thigh that had blood coursing from her in a steady stream. 

"Sorry, baldy, I don't have time for this. I gotta grab your precious monster, there, and get gone!" She flexed her shoulders, dodged another of his attacks, and shouted, "Dokuse, Escolopendra!"

Her body transformed into her Resurrecciónstate; spiky centipede-like tentacles sprouted from her torso and writhed in her wake. One of them shot out, and Orihime sent out all six of her fairies to form a shield between Ikkaku and the tentacle, but they couldn't move as fast as Loly's _sonido_. Between one second and the next, the tentacle had wrapped around Ikkaku's chest and was drenching him in a thick violet gout of flesh-eating poison. He dropped his zanpakuto, writhing in agony, shouting as his flesh began to bubble. 

Ikkaku managed to free his arms from the tentacle's constriction and tore it from around his waist, his bare hands ripping Loly's _hierro_ as she shrieked in pain and rage. Orihime regrouped the fairies and sent them over to shield him, but they just weren't capable of matching Loly's speed-- her other tentacle was racing toward him, dodging the fairies' shield in a neat evasion and coiling around its prey. 

"Ikkaku!" Yumichika shouted from his side of the battlefield. He dispatched his current opponent with near-apathy, ignoring the Gillian's death throes to shoot forward to his friend, only to have the path blocked by a half-dozen Arrancar intent on preventing him from going anywhere. He yelled in frustration as he fought against them, and then again as the last few 11th Division soldiers were dispatched with almost insulting ease by another pack of Gillians. 

"Sorry, lover, but I can't play any more games," Loly purred at Ikkaku and squeezed the tentacle tighter, forcing the poison to make his body melt away even faster. Orihime sent her fairies in to heal him, but the poison eroded him faster than they could reject the damage. Horrified, Orihime could only watch, tears streaming, as his flesh dissolved with a grotesque sizzling sound. When his screams had faded away, his body nothing but naked bones from clavicle to pelvis, Loly tossed him away like garbage and refocused on her true prey. 

Yumichika howled in despair, still encircled by Arrancar. Loly turned to Orihime, her gaze sharp and triumphant, and terror streaked down Orihime's spine. She recalled the fairies to her and had three of them form a shield, while the other three joined into one entity that she shot at Loly as the Numéro approached at an almost relaxed pace. 

"Aw, is the monster fighting back?" Loly drawled as she darted to the side, just avoiding the fairy-missile. "Adorable. You know, I requested the task of bringing you to Aizen-sama _especially_. And he said I didn't have to bring you back whole, just alive." Her grin was psychotic with malice. "I figure I'll just pound you until you're _almost_ dead, how does that sound?"

Orihime glanced at Yumichika; he was struggling with his group of Arrancar, and sobbing in grief from Ikkaku's death. He wouldn't be able to fulfill his promise to make sure she didn't fall into the hands of the enemy. She'd have to do this herself-- but how? She called the other three fairies back to her as Loly's remaining tentacle shot out, and had all six form a shield around her just in time. Her view from the interior of the coiled tentacle was of a thousand writhing hairy centipede legs, each dripping poison, and she felt her stomach turn. 

"Spoil-sport," Loly pouted. "How long can you keep that shield up? I can stay in Resurrección for _hours_." She tossed a disdainful glance over her shoulder at Yumichika. "That one's far too busy to help you." She drifted closer, until her face was only a foot away on the other side of the tentacle. "Don't worry, monster, I won't kill you like baldy. I'll just melt you enough to make you _wish_ you were dead."

Orihime closed her eyes against the sight of Loly's manic face and wild eyes, against the centipede legs and their oozing poison, and concentrated on holding her shield steady. It wasn't easy; Loly was squeezing with all of her considerable strength, and she was right in saying that Orihime couldn't keep the shield up forever. Already, she was having to work harder at holding it at its current strength. Sorrow and guilt at Ikkaku's death beat at her, and she hoped in desperation that Yumichika would be able to conquer his foes instead of succumbing. 

She began to think of how to switch the fairies from defense to offense in the span of a single second, so that they'd shoot inward and kill her before Loly could prevent it. In her mind, all six tiny voices were protesting, her head a clamor as she ignored them and began to refocus her purpose so that the rejection would shift from outward to inward in a split instant. 

"Jeez, Loly, what's taking so long?" said another female voice. Orihime opened her eyes to see that Menoly had opened a second garganta right behind where Loly was trying to turn her into goo. Menoly was sitting on the garganta's lip, arms folded and a frown across her forehead. "Aizen-sama isn't going to be happy if he has to wait too long."

"Yeah, yeah," Loly grumbled. "As soon as I break her shield, we'll be done." Menoly just huffed in impatience. Orihime continue to build up her energy, ignoring fer fairies' shrill protests, readying them to destroy her and themselves. 

Yumichika gave a warrior's yell and finished off the last of the Arrancar that had been plaguing him. He paused only a second to shoot a look at where Ikkaku's crumpled body lay on the ground five stories below where they fought, then flash-stepped toward Loly and Orihime. 

Menoly came alert, and moved to intercept him; he evaded her, taking off a leg at the knee with a well-aimed swipe of his sword and ignoring her shriek of pain. She pursued him, reaching him just as he was stabbing all four of Ruri'iro Kujaku's blades into Loly to the hilt. Loly roared, more in fury than anything, and hacked at him with her dagger.  

Loly's tentacle was loosening; perhaps instead Orihime could break free and escape long enough to activate her bankai. No matter how volatile it might be, there was no way she and Yumichika could defeat them in shikai. It was their only chance at survival. She switched her built-up energy to push out and increase the size of her shield, rejoicing to see the tentacle slacken further.

Menoly approached from behind, her sword upraised for a fearsome strike--

\--a blur appeared between them; Yumichika was flung away--

\--a flash of silver; the tentacle had been severed and was falling away--

\--the blur materialized in front of Menoly and was a hand grasping her throat--

\--the blur became flesh became Byakuya, and gray eyes that met Orihime's for half a second--

\--the blur halted at the very mouth of the garganta itself, Menoly dangling from Byakuya's grasp, and his other hand clamped around Loly's throat, too--

\--the three of them pitched forward through the garganta into the vast expanse of Hueco Mundo, where a thousand Arrancar and Hollows writhed in wait--

\--Orihime unfroze, was able to suck in a lungful of breath and scream, "Bya--"

\--the  _garganta_  snapped shut--

"--kuya!"

\--but he was gone.


	24. Chapter 24

Byakuya tossed the two Arrancar away the moment the garganta snapped shut behind him, and  released his bankai as soon as he touched foot to sand in Hueco Mundo. He felt that he would need every bit of firepower he could muster, because what had looked like mere dozens of Hollows from the far side of the garganta turned out to be _hundreds_ of them, teeming with blood-lust and exultation at having their lord Aizen restored to them.

There was no time to think about Orihime, besides enjoying a fierce satisfaction that she was safe now, that he had removed these threats from her presence and soon would be destroying them for daring to attack her.

He swept the clouds of blades around in erratic patterns, keeping his opponents confused and scattered as they were relentlessly sliced to ribbons. It became apparent, when he saw how quickly most of them were dropping, that while the majority of this small army were of mere Gillians with a few Adjuchas-level, the only Numéro-level Hollows were those two vicious little females. Yumichika had taken the leg off of one of them, and the other's Resurrección form had been mangled beyond use; she dropped it and returned to her humanoid form, panting and enraged. 

"Menoly, get out of here," she ordered the more wounded one, who nodded and disappeared with a bang of Sonido.

_Menoly_? That was the name of one of Orihime's tormentors, during her imprisonment in this godforsaken place ten years earlier. She had told him about them, one quiet night in the gardens after dinner, not long after her death. Her voice had been fervent, but guilty, when she admitted she hoped they were dead. 

"So you see, Byakuya-sama, I'm not so very good of a person after all," Orihime had concluded, glancing up at him with eyes full of guilt. He had thought her foolishly soft-hearted at that time; now that he loved her, he recognized her kindness and understood her shame, even while disagreeing with it. He knew that the only way to ensure one was not to be forever plagued by an enemy was to _kill_ said enemy. He would kill every being in Hueco Mundo if it meant she could finally feel safe. 

The rage Byakuya had felt, that summer night months ago, on Orihime's behalf reawakened; it shook him to his very bones, and he breathed deeply to let it burn away anything resembling leniency.

"That must mean you are Loly, then," he addressed the girl when he was capable of speaking once more. 

"That's me," she confirmed.  Her one eye-- the other hidden behind her Hollow mask-- narrowed in suspicion.  "What's it to you?"

"To me?" Byakuya replied, his tone glacial. "Less than nothing to me. To Inoue Orihime, however..." He called back half of his blades, leaving the other half to continue slaughtering the various Hollows writhing around them, persistent in their attack of his person. 

That single eye of hers widened in surprise and dawning alarm as Byakuya began to form Senbonzakura's blades into the spherical form of his Goukei technique. Alarmed, she tried to use Sonido to escape them, but each abortive attempt was blocked by the incoming wall of blades. She darted back and forth, her movements more and more jerky as panic began to set in. 

"To Inoue Orihime your continued existence is a mistake, for in her mercy she spared you," Byakuya informed the Arrancar girl.  He brought his zanpakutou's shards around to cup her in a profusion of blades, the seam closing from the foot up. "I will not compound that error."

Her horrified face, mouth open and gasping in fear, was the only part exposed as he approached her, his gaze pure ice as he met her eyes and let her see that within them was her death.  

"My sole regret is that this will not take longer and be more painful. Though I will slow it down as much as possible for your benefit, as a personal thanks for your kind treatment of Inoue Orihime," Byakuya finished, and with that, he sealed the final space to enclose her completely in Goukei's sphere. With a thought to Senbonzakura, he a ctivated the technique's final act of bursting inward to shred her apart on a molecular level,  flash-stepping to a safe distance so that the immense shock-wave of reiatsu could not reach him. The force of it destroyed the last of the Hollows that had been trying in futility to attack him. 

True to his word, he let the process linger as long as Senbonzakura was capable-- until there was nothing left to pulverize, and the sand below sloshed with gore-- and watched, stoic as always, as her screams echoed across the desert.

When they faded away at last, he drifted to the ground and surveyed his surroundings. If his ability to sense reiatsu was correct-- and it always was-- the other female, Menoly, had gone off to find reinforcements, because far off in the distance, he could tell that hers had been joined by that of a few others. _Powerful_ others. Byakuya passed a few moments considering his options; he could take the battle to them, but while he was confident in his ability to kill her and whichever others she had located, it was certain to mean suicide on his part. 

For the first time in his life, he had the curious sensation of not being able to risk his life, because he was important enough to others that his death would be of considerable, negative impact upon them. Rukia would be devastated; he even suspected that Renji would be distraught. And Orihime...

Despite her attempts at keeping Byakuya at a distance, he knew she loved him. He had heard her crying his name as he went through the garganta. It had been frantic, scared, desperate: it had been everything he would have felt had it been her pitching herself into Hueco Mundo on his behalf. If he died, she would be inconsolable. 

For Orihime's sake, he had to survive. And that meant he had to keep from expending reiatsu, maybe perform some healing kidou on his knee, which had grown the smallest bit sore with his recent exertions, though it was in far better condition than it should have been only two days after being broken. Isane-fukutaichou was certainly a skilled and effective medic, though even she had seemed surprised at how soon his condition had improved. In fact, she had asked him if anyone else had been in the tent to heal him while she'd left for a moment--

_\--ah._ Byakuya smiled as happiness infused him with the realization that somehow, Orihime had mended him in secret. He should have realized at once; it simply was not in her nature to stand by while anyone suffered. He flattered himself to append "but especially myself" to that. The knowledge that he was loved made him feel capable, made him feel powerful, made him feel there was nothing he could not accomplish. 

And so Byakuya began a leisurely shunpou in the opposite direction from that of Menoly and her compatriots, taking care to use as little reiatsu as possible and to not exhaust himself. If a fierce battle were to come-- and he felt certain there were-- then he would need to be as rested and strong as possible. 

So he could return to Orihime.

 

* * *

  

A stinging sensation on her cheek brought Orihime's focus back from the blinding terror she felt for Byakuya. Blinking, she saw Ichigo standing before her, both of them mid-air.

"Inoue," he breathed, looking shocked as he lowered his hand to his side. "What--"

Her grasp on her reiatsu failed her, and she began to plummet to earth. Ichigo shot after her, grabbing her up in his arms before she could splatter herself on the barren ground below. 

The reality of her predicament-- Byakuya was alone in Hueco Mundo with no manner to return, completely alone with Aizen and no telling how many Hollows from the weakest right up to the remaining Vasto Lordes, Grimmjow and Halibel, sure to pursue him. She had every faith in his superb abilities and formidable strength, but even Byakuya could not hope to last long against the concerted efforts of that many foes.

"We have to get him back. He has no way back. There are too many of them there, he can't-- we have to--" She began to shake. Ichigo's arms tightened around her, and he reached the ground, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. 

"Orihime-chan!" Yumichika called her name from not far away, where he knelt at the side of the sad pile of meat and bones that had been Ikkaku. "Orihime-chan, please come!"

She sucked in a breath and struggled free of Ichigo, rushing to them and falling to her knees on Ikkaku's other side. 

Yumichika looked up at her, tears spilling to track trails through the grime and blood on his face. "Orihime-chan, you've brought people back before, haven't you?"

Her fairies sprang to work, all six forming a healing dome that pulsed with power. Orihime closed her eyes, pretending she was concentrating on healing, but her mind was in chaos, thoughts darting from Byakuya to Aizen, her terror shifting from worrying about the man she loved to wondering what horrors they would have to endure from the man she feared. Dimly, she felt other reiatsu as other shinigami began to arrive at the prison site: Shinji and Momo, Komamura and Iba, Mayuri and Nemu, Renji, and Soi Fong, with a group of her masked Onmitsukido soldiers.

"Holy fuck!" exclaimed Iba, running to where Orihime was huddled with Yumichika over Ikkaku. He yanked his sunglasses off for possibly the first time ever, and his face was stark with shock. "Ikkaku! Fuck!"

Thus began a brief but noisy period where everyone seemed to be either demanding or providing answers, all at the same time, except for Nemu; the moment she arrived, her gaze fixed on Ikkau, and she approached with her usually immobile face shifting into... an expression. An expression, Orihime quickly realized, of horror and disbelief, or at least as much as the engineered woman was capable of producing. Nemu dropped to her knees at Ikkaku's head and lifted it onto her lap, then reached out to run a fingertip over the smooth expanse of his bald pate as her head bowed in grief.

"Nemu-san..." Orihime said, not knowing what to say. She recognized that expression. She met Yumichika's and Iba's eyes over Ikkaku's lifeless form before trying again. "Nemu-san... you... for Ikkaku-kun?" 

Nemu raised her head, and tears dripped from her chin to fall onto Ikkaku's still face. It was very peculiar to see her cry when her face was almost as blank as it ever was. 

"I had wondered," Yumichika wondered aloud. Orihime shot him an inquiring look, and he continued. "I had wondered why you continued to join us for the pub crawls, Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou, when you don't drink and almost never participate in any conversations...  yet you always managed to sit beside Ikkaku."

"I thought it was to keep him from getting too frisky with Rangiku-san as she got more drunk throughout the night," Iba contributed. 

Nemu shook her head, her hands gentle on Ikkaku's face as she steadied the placement of his head on her knees. It was on the tip of Orihime's tongue to ask why, but then she decided that not only was it not her business, but she had no real right to wonder about Ikkaku's attractions when she knew many would find her love for Byakuya to be just as baffling. And if it had been Byakuya laying here, half of him gone, she'd be in a worse state than poor Nemu.

"I will bring him back," she promised the other woman, then looked at Yumichika as well. "I will."

Nemu's eyes drowned in another flood of tears, but she nodded and ducked her head again, only to jerk up in attention when her father snapped, "Nemu! You idiot, what are you doing over there?" He stalked over, stopping beside their sad little group, and continued. "So one of Zaraki's trained gorillas was not up to the challenge. Nemu, stop being useless and get a sample of that poison, then come help me calibrate this thing so these fools can go on their mission of mercy."

They looked up to see him holding a small square black box; opening it, Orihime could see that it contained two smaller cubes and two identical glossy spheres. 

"What's going on? Who's going where?" Orihime asked, her head whipping around to look at the others. She stood, leaving her fairies to continue healing Ikkaku, and went to join Ichigo and the others.

"We're going to Hueco Mundo to get Byakuya back," Ichigo told her. "Me, Renji, Shinji, and Momo-san."

"And me," said Iba, trotting up behind her, "if Komamura-taichou will permit me." He aimed a bow at him captain. Komamura nodded agreement.

"I'm coming too," Orihime said immediately. "I'm coming too, and you can't stop me."

"That's not a great idea, Inoue," Ichigo protested, his tone patient, as if he were speaking to a child or mentally defective person. "You're, uh--"

"Hysterical," Shinji supplied helpfully.

" _Pretty upset_ , I was going to say," Ichigo corrected with a narrow glance at him. "You're pretty upset and I think it's for the best that you stay here."

"No. He might be injured. He might need me. Any of you going, you could get hurt, you could need me, too. I'm not changing my mind. I'm going. "

"Actually, you're not," said Soi Fong, who up to that point had been observing in silence. "I have orders to place you in custody if you made any gestures to return to Hueco Mundo."

" _Return_ to Hueco Mundo?" Orihime said with a gasp. "I haven't been there in ten years. It's not my home."

"The Soutaichou is not convinced of your loyalties to the Gotei 13," replied Soi Fong. "He was not convinced at the time of your 'abduction' ten years ago, and remains uncertain now. In addition, your safety is in peril due to continued demonstrated attacks both in Soul Society and the Living World to locate you. Therefore, for your own protection as well as that of Soul Society, I arrest you on his authority. You will be taken to the Nest of Maggots for containment until it can be decided what to do with you in view of the current situation."

Another explosion of sound: everyone protested the absurdity of such an order; even Soi Fong herself seemed conflicted by it, but insisted she would follow the orders given to her by her general. Orihime just stood there, frozen in astonishment, and not a little offended. She'd spent the last ten years risking her life to help others on behalf of shinigami, and Yamamoto-soutaichou thought she was a traitor? 

"Not that I care either way," Mayuri purred into a lull in the shouted conversation, "because I don't, but the longer you imbeciles argue, isn't that more time that Kuchiki-taichou remains alone and possibly in danger allllll by himself in Hueco Mundo?" He smirked, a gruesome expression in his headdress and face-paint. "I'd have thought you'd want to scamper off after him right away."

"The garganta is ready to be opened, Mayuri-sama," Nemu intoned in her dull voice. She stood to one side, foot on one of the small cubes she'd placed on the ground, and with her hands lifted a sphere over her head. Her gaze, however, remained fixed on Ikkaku's still form under the golden glow of Orihime's healing field. 

"But we can't leave if Inoue's going to be arrested!" Ichigo protested. 

"Yes," Orihime said. If this issue was preventing Byakuya from getting the help he might need, then she'd go, and without a word in protest. "Yes, go. I'll be fine. Go help Byakuya."

"But--"

"Ichigo, go!" she all but shouted. There was a faint screeching as the fabric of space and time between dimension was rent, and caused her skin to prickle. "Go _now_! We'll fix everything with me later, after he's safe." She gave him a little push toward the forming garganta when he just stood there, gaping at her. "Renji-kun, make him go!" She began to herd them all toward the growing rift. 

"I will personally advocate on Inoue-sensei's behalf, Kurosaki Ichigo," rumbled Komamura. "I will not allow her to be mistreated."

Iba sent his captain one last nod, and was the first through the garganta when it was big enough for a man to pass through. Shinji shot Orihime a grin, then pinched his nose and jumped in feet-first, as if he were cannonballing into a pool. Momo shook her head and followed him through at a more sedate pace. Renji took Ichigo by the scruff of the neck and tossed him in, mid-protest.

"We'll bring Taichou back, Orihime-chan," Renji told her with a squeeze of her shoulder. "Make sure you tell Rukia where we went. Or maybe not, it might make her worry. Use your best judgment."

"Where _is_ Rukia-chan?" Orihime asked, surprised her friend had not come to this desolate place. 

Renji looked uncomfortable. "Hm, well, about that," he began, "she had to, uh, go find someone."

" _Find_ someone? Find who?"

But Orihime was not to find out for many hours, because Iba stuck one big mitt out of the garganta and grabbed a fistful of Renji's shihakushou, then yanking. Renji went sailing into the garganta with a squawk of outrage. The portal snapped shut behind him, Mayuri having closed it with barely enough time for his feet to pass through. The grin on his face said he'd kind of been hoping it would have closed on the lieutenant's ankles. 

"Now, then," Soi Fong started, but Orihime squared her shoulders.

"I can't leave until Ikkaku-kun is healed," she said. "I have to stay until then. You can guard me all you want, I won't go anywhere, but I'm not leaving him yet."

Soi Fong huffed out a breath. "I believe Unohana-taichou is on her way here," she said, "so you may stay until she arrives. No longer."

Orihime had a bit of a staring content with the diminutive captain for a few seconds, and while she saw sympathy in Soi Fong's eyes, it was pretty far hidden behind her commitment to following orders. She knew when she'd been given some leniency, and nodded, feeling weary, before heading back to Ikkaku's side.

Her fairies had been busy throughout the shouting and dispatch of the teach to Hueco Mundo; Ikkaku's body was whole again, but there was still so much to do to bring him back; flesh and muscles and organs might be present, but the minutiae of blood vessels and nerve endings all had to be repaired, and that most elusive thing-- the spark of life-- coaxed to return from wherever it had gone. All too soon, Unohana had arrived and Soi Fong was calling her Onmitsukido team to bind Orihime. 

Unohana's reiatsu seemed to crackle when she heard that. "I will have an explanation," she informed Soi Fong placidly. Soi Fong, no fool, knew the portent of such deadly calm in her colleague, and gave a concise explanation that, while she was unhappy about it, Unohana had no real grounds to protest or prevent it from occurring. 

Orihime had grave misgivings about leaving Ikkaku at such a delicate state of regeneration, and was not at all sure she'd been able to bring him back. She apologized to Yumichika, relinquished her position to her captain, and stood to face her captors. Instead of the same sort of collar that Rukia had worn for her transport to the Tower of Penitence, since they would be traveling by shunpou, she was placed into a cage that was just big enough to hold her. Even though it had open bars, the moment the door locked shut, Orihime was gripped by a terrible sense of claustrophobia. 

"I will not permit this to stand for long, Inoue-sensei, I promise you," Unohana informed her 7th seat. 

"Nor shall I," added Komamura. 

Orihime bowed to them as best she could in her restrictive circumstances. The guards stood and the cage was lifted, suspended from each corner by a chain that led to a cuff on each guard's wrist. The sole blessing in all of it, she noted, was that at least her arms were not bound behind her back-- at least she could hold onto the bars as it cage swayed, so she could keep her balance and not be tossed about within it. 

"Mayuri-sama," Nemu said suddenly, dragging her gaze from Ikkaku's unmoving form, "I would like to return to Seireitei as well. This device will need recalibration in case it is needed later. I would also like to transport the poison sample to the laboratory so it can be studied immediately."

Mayuri was busy taking readings of reiatsu signatures on yet another little device and merely waved his hand in agreement without looking up. 

"Deliver her to Omaeda," Soi Fong instructed the Onmitsukido soldiers. "I will return when I am done interrogating the prison guards here."

They bowed to her, nodded to each other, and launched into shunpou. Orihime braced her feet and held onto the bars harder and hoped she wouldn't barf. A black-and-white blur to the side told her that Nemu was accompanying them, and she took a moment to marvel at the odd girl's affection for Ikkaku. Not that Ikkaku wasn't a nice person... well, okay, he wasn't terribly nice, and could be a jerk sometimes, but he was a good man, very loyal and dedicated, very patient with Yachiru, and unexpectedly creative in how he enjoyed making things in his workshop. Orihime supposed there were far worse people Nemu could have fallen in love with. 

Orihime put that topic out of her thoughts and refocused on Byakuya. She was nearly sick with worry for him. She didn't doubt his prowess, not at all, but there were at least two Espada still accounted for: Grimmjow and Halibel. Both were formidable fighters; Ichigo had had considerable trouble defeated Grimmjow, and the only reason Halibel had fallen was because Aizen had betrayed her, not because Hitsugaya had beaten her. If they teamed up against him... or worse, if they teamed up against him and brought additional forces of Arrancar and Gillian, even Byakuya could get overwhelmed or simply drained of his reiatsu if the fighting went on too long. Either way, she had no doubt he'd need healing. Momo was very competent with healing kidou, but Orihime knew, without feeling too arrogant, that no healing could surpass what she could do.

She had to get to Hueco Mundo. How? She had no idea. Maybe Rukia could spring her from jail, maybe she could get to the living world, maybe she could convince Urahara to open a garganta for her... she knew Rukia would come with her, perhaps Uryuu and Chad would, too...

So many _maybes_ , and not a single _absolutely_ besides her heart's underlying chant of  _I love him I love him I love him_  running below her breastbone. They sped ever closer to Seireitei, and Orihime had no idea what to do next. At all. She was aware she was crying again, and swiped impatiently at the tears wetting her cheeks.

" _Inoue-sensei_ ," Orihime heard in her ear. It was Nemu's voice. Orihime shot the other woman a look; beside them, as they flash-stepped, her face was a model of blank stoicism. And her lips weren't moving. 

" _Inoue-sensei_ ," Nemu said again, "I can hear your thoughts, so you can respond to me without speaking."

Oooh, weird. And not a little invasive-feeling; it was a bit like when Byakuya had visited unannounced to her Inner World, having someone in her head. She would worry about feeling violated later; for now, she had more important things on her mind.

" _Uh, hi, Nemu-san_ ," Orihime thought back to her.

" _Inoue-sensei_ ," Nemu said into her brain, " _if you were free right now, what would you do?_ "

 " _I would find a way to Hueco Mundo_ ," Orihime answered right away. 

" _To do what?_ " 

" _To save Byakuya_ ," said Orihime. " _And then to stop Aizen-sama forever._ "

" _You can do that? I thought he could not be killed._ "

" _I think I can. It-- it won't be easy. But if I can get five minutes with him, I can do it. I know I can._ "

Nemu went silent. Then, between one second and the next-- while Orihime  _blinked_  -- their party jerked to a bone-jarring halt on a rooftop. She gazed around in stupefaction, because all eight of the guards lay at her feet, unconscious. She stared in amazement at Nemu.

"How did youAAAHHHHHH--" Her words ended in a shout of alarm when seemingly without effort, Nemu wrenched the cage door off and chucked it over her shoulder. Then she reached into her brief kimono and withdrew the device she and Mayuri had used to open the garganta earlier.

"Why?" Orihime asked her, feeling overwhelmed. "Why are you breaking the rules and helping me?"

"You want to go to Hueco Mundo to save Byakuya out of love," stated Nemu, her fingers beginning to fiddle with the various settings on the device. "Is that not correct?"

"Yes. Yes, I love him. But--"

"I have read many books and poems, and listened to many songs, describing love. I still am not sure I entirely comprehend it. But if it is truly as depicted in literature and music, then love is what I feel for Madarame Ikkaku. And because he has caused Madarame Ikkaku's death, however indirectly, I find myself needing to eradicate Aizen Sousuke and his followers from existence." Nemu finished making adjustments to the device. "I believe it is called 'vengeance', though again, it is only something I have read about so cannot be sure I am correctly naming the sensation I am feeling." She unlocked one part of the device from the other, and handed Orihime one half.

"What do I have to do?" Orihime asked, looking down at the cube of black metal with its incomprehensible knobs, dials, levers, and switches.

"Just hold the sphere over your head. I will operate it." Nemu flipped open a lid, revealing a large red button, around which was written, "DO NOT PUSH". She pushed it.

The sky above them ripped open; not much, just enough for them to slip through one at a time. "The process is delicate and organic; replicating it with machinery can be... volatile. I am lucky it worked at all, after the larger one we opened before," Nemu explained. She shoved Orihime through the opening between dimensions, then dove in after her. The little aperture snapped closed.

Orihime landed face-down in a dune. She scrambled to her hands and knees and spat sand from her mouth, blinked it from her eyes, even snorfed it out with a hard exhalation from her nose. "Nemu-san!" she exclaimed. "A little warning!"

"It was closing. There was no time," Nemu replied tonelessly, standing and brushing herself off, then surveying their surroundings.

All Orihime could see was sand, sand, a spindly tree, and sand. In the distance: more sand. Yep, it was Hueco Mundo. "Where are Kurosaki-kun and the rest? Why didn't we land where they did?"

"We have moved a considerable distance from where Mayuri-sama and I opened the previous garganta. Trying to open one to the same location in Hueco Mundo from a different location in Soul Society would be like trying to use the same door to enter different houses. There is no flexibility with garganta, as there is with senkeimon."

"Ah," Orihime said. Maybe she'd understand if she had more time to think about it. And weren't half-crazed with fear. "I can sense their reiatsu a little..." After all these years, Ichigo's reiatsu was as familiar as her own; Renji's, only a little less so. She could even feel Shinji's somewhat. "They went this way."

"Can you do  _shunpou_  on your own? If you are too tired, I can carry you," Nemu offered.

"I'm okay for now. Maybe later." Orihime was the slightest bit weirded out to be carried anywhere by the stoic Nemu, but there was more at stake than being freaked out. If she became too tired, she would take advantage of anything Nemu was capable of, if it meant success in saving Byakuya and defeating Aizen-sama for good.

She began to flash-step toward Byakuya. If she could join him, even if Nemu would not fight at their sides, at least it would be a more fair fight of two-against-two. That is, if there weren't a few dozen Arrancar to beat as well. She thought with shame of her recent  lackluster fight against Loly, and promised that she wouldn't let fear of her own powers sway her from using her bankai again. That's what the stupid thing was  _for_ ; to be a big gun she could pull out to protect and heal and, yes, kill if needed. 

"What can we do?" she asked the other woman. "Besides joining him in fighting, what can we do?"

"We will never reach him before his reiatsu is depleted," Nemu replied in a matter-of-fact tone. 

Orihime pushed her shunpou faster. "Where are Kurosaki-kun and the others? Are they closer? Can they go in and help him?" She could feel Ichigo and Renji and the rest, in a triangulated position off to the side, but couldn't tell how close they were to Byakuya's location. 

Nemu was silent while her more acute senses pinpointed everyone. "No," she replied at last. "They are even further away than we are."

Orihime sobbed in despair. "There has to be something we can do." The wind dried her tears as they flash-stepped across the desert.

"Would you sacrifice yourself for Kuchiki-taichou?" Nemu asked after a moment. 

"Yes," Orihime replied without hesitation. "I'd do anything to keep him safe."

"Even if it meant the possibility of another war with Aizen?" Nemu turned her head to look fully into Orihime's eyes. "Because I can facilitate you trading yourself in exchange for Kuchiki-taichou, but it means putting yourself in Aizen's hands. It is possible for him to use you as a weapon, or even Hollowify you. Is such a risk acceptable to you?"

Orihime stared back at her, understanding the full import of such a thing. "I'm not the same child I was ten years ago," she said at last. "I would not let that happen. I would kill myself before I'd let him make me into any sort of monster."

Nemu stared at her so deeply that Orhime felt rather like her head was being excavated and examined. Then, seeming satisfied with what she saw, the other woman nodded. "I will give you a means for suicide that will likely be quicker, easier, and more painless than anything you can do yourself."

Relief flooded Orihime down to her toes. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you."

"In ten seconds, you will be able to communicate directly with Aizen," Nemu informed her tonelessly, as if mentioning how she made telepathy possible between people miles apart was no big deal.

Orihime waited every one of those ten seconds with immense trepidation. When Nemu nodded at her, indicating she was 'live' in Aizen's head, she began. "Aizen-sama," she croaked, apprehension turning her throat tight as a fist. "This is Inoue Orihime. You can just think your replies back to me."

There was a pause, and then Aizen's smooth voice, so familiar still, spoke, as clearly as if he stood beside her and said the words right into her ear. "Inoue Orihime. How pleased I am to speak with you once more."

_The pleasure is all yours,_  she thought, a trifle hysterically. "I understand your Espada are fighting Kuchiki Byakuya at the moment."

Another pause. "Why, yes, I believe they are," he replied at last. "Is that something that... matters to you?"

_Careful, careful._  Anything she said could make her fall into a verbal trap of Aizen's devising; she'd long ago learned that the hard way. "If you call them off, I will trade myself to you for him."

Aizen did not reply right away; Orihime imagined she'd piled surprise upon surprise to actually make the man momentarily speechless. "Done," came the eventual reply. Orihime concentrated, Byakuya's reiatsu had shifted from the intense flow of battle to the more sluggish movement of recovery. A wave of relief swept over her, so that she almost felt dizzy.

"And now," said Aizen, sounding happy in a way that made Orihime's flesh crawl, "where shall we meet? I think I'll keep Kuchiki close until the exchange is made. Not to say I don't trust you, my dear, but I do like to have a little insurance, just in case. You understand."

"There are some ruins 18.63 kilometers from here," Nemu interjected, "approximately equidistant between Aizen's group, Kurosaki's group, and us."

Orihime relayed that information to Aizen, who agreed to meet there. When the connection was severed, Orihime doubled down on her stamina and flash-stepped with everything she had toward the appointed meeting place. It still wasn't fast enough.

"Am I holding us back?" she asked Nemu.

The other woman nodded. "Your  _shunpou_  speed is still rudimentary."

Orihime sighed. "Please carry me, then, if it will make us get there faster."

Without breaking stride, Nemu reached out and grasped her wrist; with a twist, she slung Orihime to her back in a piggyback carry, then shot forward like a bullet. The difference in speed was immediate and drastic, and Orihime could tell they would reach the ruins very soon. 

In the meanwhile, she had thinking to do, and began to formulate a plan.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a little shorter-- been busy :)

Byakuya was not too surprised when a burst of Sonido resulted in very nearly losing his head to a vicious swipe from a blue-haired Espada with a grin that put him in mind of that which usually graced the unlovely visage of one Zaraki Kenpachi. It was only due to his excellent parrying skills and, he had to admit, superb reflexes that he was able to avoid such an ignominius fate.

It appeared that this Espada had suppressed his reiatsu, counting on that 'silence' and then exceptional speed to deliver a surprise attack. Byakuya should have expected such an eventuality, except that he had suffered a most unwelcome shock almost 20 minutes earlier: that of Orihime's reiatsu flaring into existence. Somehow, she'd ignored any scrap of self-preservation she might have had, and any dribble of common sense that might have beaten its way into her skull over the course of her lifetime, to find her way through the dimensional divide from Soul Society to Hueco Mundo.

He had been aware, of course, of the advent of his own lieutenant and Kurosaki Ichigo, neither of whom were unexpected. If anyone were to follow him to Hueco Mundo to ensure his safe return, it would be those two dunderheads. He was not unduly surprised by the presence of Hirako Shinji and Hinamori Momo, either, because if anyone were to want a resolution to the myriad grudges held again Aizen Sousuke, it was they. Iba Tetsuzaimon's involvement, however, puzzled him. He settled on commending the man for his attention to duty and left it at that.

Byakuya had altered his course to angle both away from the pursuing Arrancar-- possibly Espada-- that followed in his wake, and toward the newly arrived group, thinking that if he were to join his efforts to theirs, the odds of his survival in the event of a battle rose exponentially. He had even thought he'd make it, but when Orihime arrived, he had had to battle with so many conflicting emotions-- irritation, confusion, amazement, gratitude, pleasure, anger-- that he'd lost focus, just for a bit, but clearly enough to provide an opening to any hopeful attackers. 

And then a maniacal grin with sword attached had exploded into existence right in his face, and now Byakuya was in the throes of an admittedly quite exhilarating fight. His opponent had little finesse but endless enthusiasm, and kept shouting compliments at Byakuya for being able to withstand him so skillfully. If Byakuya were a man given to laughter, he'd be hard-pressed to keep from it, because the entire situation was just plain weird. 

His opponent was brutally strong, and almost miraculously fast. He preferred to fight hand-to-hand in close combat, forcing Byakuya to abandon any hopes of using Senbonzakura's millions of blades in his usual way-- even with directing them with his hands, they were still too slow. After tossing away his sword in bankai-- to the delighted hoot of his foe, who rushed toward him-- Byakuya activated his Senkei technique, encircling them within the rows and rows of glowing swords before calling one of them to his hand for some good old-fashioned zanjutsu.

Thus commenced what he had heard Renji refer to before as a 'slobberknocker', with lightning-fast rushes and bone-jarring clashes. Neither of them seemed able to gain the upper hand against the other, which seemed to thrill the lunatic Byakuya was fighting almost beyond endurance. At one point, he sensed the arrival of another, even stronger Espada, as well as a few dozen weaker Arrancar and Gillian, all of whom lined up around the exterior perimeter of Senkei to observe but did not interfere. 

Byakuya was even enjoying the battle until he managed to land a considerable blow to the shoulder of his opponent. As blood streamed down the Espada's torso, pooling gruesomely in his Hollow hole before spilling over and soaking into his white hakama, he yelled, "This is great. You're almost as good a fighter as Kurosaki."

_Well_. That insult could not stand. Byakuya threw himself into the fight with renewed purpose. After another few minutes of striving, both breathless, they paused at opposite sides of Senkei's barrier. His captain's haori, black kosode, and white shitagi were all mere shreds clinging to his body due to the sweat pouring from him, and his hakama too had suffered damage. If he were not careful, he might soon be nude and that would not be conducive to maintaining his dignity. 

As for wounds, he had what felt like a hundred shallow slices all over him, and a rather more serious one across his left bicep. Yet another, deeper one traversed his chest from right shoulder to left hipbone, and he spared a moment to seal those two with a quick kidou before resuming the battle. 

He might, under duress, one day admit to a certain amount of... concern when the second Espada, apparently losing the last of her patience, broke through Senkei's barrier with an almost insulting amount of ease to join the fight. But if he was displeased by the shift into a two-on-one battle, his original opponent was even moreso: the blue-haired gentleman began to gripe in such a way that Byakuya suspected the female would rather silence her colleague by killing _him_ than fight Byakuya himself. 

"Grimmjow," she said, her voice husky for a woman and muffled by the high collar of her jacket, "is _victory_ not the desired outcome, not 'a hell of a lot of fun', as you put it before? Aizen-sama will not be pleased to waste this amount of time on a single shinigami."

"But Harribel," this Grimmjow protested, sounding perilously close to a whine, "he's good! He hasn't died yet, and I've been trying to kill him really hard!"

She said nothing, just fixed him with an icy glare that Byakuya could only admire the frostiness of. His admiration was cut off short, however, when she turned and aimed herself at him like a big blonde torpedo. Brilliant yellow energy gathered within the hollow of her short blade, and as she approached, she slashed out to release an immense wave of power. Byakuya dodged and at the same time transformed Senkei into Kageyoshi, using the millions of blades as a shield against what he realized was her cero.

She cleft through Kageyoshi as if it were smoke, once her cero dissipated, and he returned Senbonzakura into Senkei to employ its power as an actual sword once more. There was no joy to her fight; she was all business, and rightly so. This was not a situation Byakuya should be enjoying. He should be defeating his foes so he could turn his attentions to returning to Soul Society. 

He was not best pleased to notice his reiatsu was starting to get depleted. He was tiring. This Grimmjow appeared to have a somewhat developed sense of honor, because he flatly refused to join Halibel in battling Byakuya at the same time, stating it wasn't a fair fight. Byakuya knew he'd have to fight Grimmjow after her, and wondered if he'd be able to scrape together the power to accomplish the feat.

They fought, and fought, and fought. It seemed to drag on for hours, though it could not have been more than a half hour. After one particularly hard clash, Harribel dashed her hair from her eyes with an impatient hand and snapped at Grimmjow to join her so they could get this over with and return to Aizen.

Grimmjow glowered at her but trudged forward, swinging his sword from where he'd been tapping it against his shoulder to point in Byakuya's direction. "Sorry," he said with a smirk. "Women. What can you do?"

Indeed. If not for Orihime, Byakuya wouldn't be here right now.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

Byakuya sighed on the inside, and prepared to die. 

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byakuya's theme song this chapter is Little Wing by Jimi Hendrix. The lyrics are basically the most perfect description of Orihime ever: 
> 
> "Well, she's walking through the clouds/With a circus mind/That's running wild  
> Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams/And fairy tales  
> That's all she ever thinks about/Riding the wind  
> When I'm sad, she comes to me/With a thousand smiles/She gives to me, free  
> It's alright, she says/It's alright/Take anything you want from me/Anything"

Byakuya was beginning to experience the first inkling of what he suspected might be despair. It seemed familiar; he thought he recognized it from when Hisana had died. He was covered in gashes, had been impaled through his left shoulder, and had lost a lot of blood; his thinking was slowing down and his movement was sluggish. It was, to be truthful, a miracle he had not yet succumbed to the two-pronged assault by the Espada, and he knew he would not last much longer. 

Deep shame lodged in his belly at the knowledge that he could not take at least one of them with him. In all honesty, he would have been hard-pressed to defeat even one; with both of them worrying at him like a pack of wolves on a dying stag, he had no chance at all. 

There was a flash of white in the corner of his eye, but he could not afford to deviate his attention even for a fraction of a second from the onslaught he fought against. Then he heard yelling; it appeared a newcomer had arrived, and was trying to get the attention of Byakuya's attackers. There was too much of a roaring in his ears, he couldn't make out the words that were shouted...

...but then, between one heartbeat and another, the Espada left off their assault. They simply stopped where they were; Grimmjow lowered his sword, Harribel let the cero at the tip of her blade disperse. Byakuya lowered Senbonzakura, needing to rest his weary arm. 

"What's this?" he asked them, surprised at how he had to labor to push the words out. This reprieve, whatever its reason, had come just in time. 

"Aizen-sama has commanded us to stop our attack. You are to be escorted to a ruins some kilometers from here and exchanged for another prisoner," Harribel informed him. If her tone of voice was any indication, she could not have cared less about this new transaction. Grimmjow just looked frustrated at being thwarted in his swordplay again. 

"Exchanged for whom?" Baykuya asked. Exhaustion forced him to trust that they would not attack him again, and he let his sword seal itself with a silent thanks to the zanpakutou's hard and stalwart work in helping him.

But she had no answer for him. "Follow me," was all she said, and shot off in a clap of Sonido, leaving him to trail after her with Grimmjow and the other, less powerful Arrancar bringing up the rear. 

As they traveled, Byakuya had a thought that broke upon him like a wave in a storm, and knew with awful certainty that he was correct: the person to be traded for him was Orihime. Dread and anger and terror rose up to choke up, and he actually faltered in his next flash-step before Grimmjow shot by him with a derisive smirk. He was grateful for his sense of pride, then, because it was the only thing keeping him upright and moving forward. He only prayed that the demon-cat Shihouin Yoruichi never learned of this pitifully slow pace he held. 

If, by some miracle, they both managed to survive this, Byakuya was going to murder Orihime. And by 'murder', of course, he meant wrap her in silk velvet and lock her in a beautifully appointed room and never let her go anywhere she could get hurt, or in trouble, ever again. 

 

* * *

 

Informing Ichigo, Renji, Shinji, Momo, and Iba that she and Nemu were in Hueco Mundo went poorly. Orihime's brain was still burning from the stream of cuss words thought by Ichigo and Renji, Nemu having linked everyone up for ease of communication.

Nemu interrupted their tirade and informed them of the meeting place, then severed the connection mid-expletive. Orihime felt tired, and did not scruple to drop her head to Nemu's back to close her eyes for a moment. She thought back to those precious few hours she'd had with Byakuya after the party, when she'd been uninhibited enough by  _sake_  to express her growing affection.

She could almost still feel the strength of his arm around her waist as they walked home from the party, the heat of his body under hers as they lay beneath the stars, the press of his lips against her forehead, the faint salt of his throat when she'd dared to touch the tip of her tongue to his skin.

_We have to save him_ _,_ she thought plaintively, sending a mute plea to the universe.  _Even if he can't forgive me for refusing him for so long, I can't bear it if he dies._

Nothing happened, of course. The universe continued on as it had been, and the wind continued to whistle past Orihime's ears as Nemu propelled them toward the meeting place. She could sense Ichigo and the rest coming closer, and it wasn't long before they met at one side of the ruin site. 

"Orihime-chan, no offense, but what the fuck is wrong with you?" Renji shouted at her. Iba looked like he wanted to shout too, but was content to let Renji have the honors since he was doing so well at it. Momo was dismayed and confused; Shinji irritated and impatient.

Ichigo said nothing, for once, just stood there staring at her with a vein threatening to explode in his temple as his face turned a hideous red that clashed horribly with his hair. "Inoue," he said, "what are you doing here? How did you escape from the guards? And what is Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou doing here?"

"I'm here to help get Byakuya back," she answered, feeling a bit downtrodden. Why _shouldn't_ she be here? "Nemu-san broke me free from the guards." She paused. "Her reason for being here is private."

He was silent while his hands flexed into fists and back again, clearly restraining his temper with monumental effort, then opened his mouth to speak.

Orihime decided to beat him to the punch. "I know you're angry, but I can help! Nemu-san can, too. She can do amazing things, you don't know the half of what she can do! The telepathic messages from before is just a small part of it!"

She glanced at Nemu and took a deep breath, because she knew that if Ichigo was pissed now, her next words would send his temper soaring into the stratosphere. 

"Anyway, so, we sort of already told Aizen-sama that, if he'll release Byakuya, I'll surrender myself in exchange. That's why we had you come to these ruins," she continued as he turned away, her concern increasing exponentially as his face went from red to purple and he plucked Zangetsu from his back. "Th-- this is where the exchange will take place."

They watched in dismayed silence as Ichigo proceeded to demolish one of the fallen columns nearby by hacking at it with great vigor for a full two minutes. Orihime began to feel kind of inconsiderate and maybe reckless, but what else was she supposed to have done? Placidly accepted imprisonment while the man she loved was in terrible danger? She could no more do that than Ichigo could have left her in Hueco Mundo when Ulquiorra had abducted her, and she told him so.

He deflated, letting out a long slow breath while hanging his head, then peering up at her through his shaggy fringe. "It's just... we almost didn't beat Aizen last time. We won't be able to recreate the way we beat him again. Your being here is just what he needs to recover his power, and if he manages to accomplish that, the result could be catastrophic. Now instead of concentrating on destroying him, we'll have to spend the entire fight trying to get you back, and you could get caught in the crossfire."

Orihime reared back as if struck. "Do you really see me as so passive and useless that all I am is some... some damsel in distress you have to keep saving?"

Ichigo's eyes widened, but he said nothing, probably realizing that any response was going to make things worse. Iba was not that bright, however, and so he piped up with, "From what Kurosaki told us, it's not like you did anything much when Ikkaku died. Were you planning on whipping out something new for _this_ fight?"

Ichigo glared at him as Orihime's eyes filled with angry, frustrated tears, which she dashed from her cheeks as she rounded on Iba. "Yes, actually! I was afraid to use my bankai in case it hurt some shinigami! I've only ever used it in my Inner World so I wasn't sure how it would work in reality!" 

Into the silence that fell after she dropped that bomb, she added, "It has the potential to, uh, cause some problems if it gets out of hand. Like, _big_ problems. So I didn't want to risk it." She hung her head in remorse, her mind full of the gruesome image of poor Ikkaku's melted body hurtling to the ground. "I should have taken the chance. I made a mistake, last time. This time I won't."

"When did you reach bankai, Inoue?" Ichigo asked. His face was the very picture of amazement. "And how? Isn't it a bit soon? I thought it took decades... I thought Hat-and-Clogs and I were the only ones who'd done it faster, using that doll and fighting for three days..."

"It took me three days, too, Kurosaki-kun, but it was while I was sick and everyone was donating reiatsu to me."

Comprehension dawned. "I bet it was Urahara's ring," he said. "That sneaky bastard... I'm going to pound him, next time I see him. He said it was to help you get better, but it was just to mess around and see what trouble he could stir up."

"Whatever reason he had, it worked," Orihime said. "I have bankai, and I'm going to use it to get Byakuya back, and get rid of Aizen-sama and the Hougyoku for good."

"But how, Orihime-chan?" Momo ventured, taking a step closer. "If Kurosaki-san and all the captains and the Kidou Corps and, and _everyone_ who has tried, and failed, to separate the Hougyoku from Aizen-taichou couldn't do it, what can you do by yourself?"

"And what if you fail?" Renji  said bluntly. "If you fail, that could mean we all die, including Kuchiki-taichou, and you'd be under the control of Aizen."

"I won't fail," she whispered. "I _can't_ fail." Her voice grew stronger with every word. "I won't let myself fail. But if I do? He won't get me. I won't be used by him, ever again." 

She exchanged a glance at Nemu; the other girl had already implanted a tiny chip in the lining of Orihime's mouth. If she wanted to kill herself, she had only to bite the chip, which would activate a telepathic sensor. Then, with a thought, she could activate the chip, which would send a massive electric charge throughout her body, resulting in instant death. 

"OY!" A bellow came across the courtyard separating the two groups. Orihime peeked around a gigantic block of fallen stone and saw a small group of Arrancar massed at the other cluster of columns. The white-clad figure with a distinctive shock of bright blue hair raised his hands to his mouth and kept shouting. "Are you assholes ready to get moving on this? I got shit to do."

 

* * *

 

In the distance, against the empty black sky, were the ruins Harribel had mentioned. In distant days long past, it might have been some sort of temple, with collapsed stairs and tumbled colonnades. A cacophany of reiatsus was clustered in the detritus on the far side of an empty central courtyard, with everyone accounted for. 

Kurosaki Ichigo's was ragged, showing agitation, as was Orihime's. Was the orange-headed fool being unkind to her? Byakuya felt torn; he didn't want anyone upsetting her, but well he understood and shared Kurosaki's annoyance if his suspicion that she was the sacrifice for his safety was correct. 

They touched down. Byakuya almost stumbled, in his weariness, but felt (hoped) he concealed it with his usual masterful grace. They waited for several minutes for something to happen, the silence punctuated only by Grimmjow's verbal fidgeting in the form of repeated grunts of "che!". 

At last the Espada's almost total lack of impulse control got the better of him, and he cupped his hands to his mouth to ensure his bellows reached the far side of the courtyard to where the shinigami contingent was camped out. In response, Byakuya saw a distinctive russet head peer around a fallen column, and his heart seized. Orihime disappeared again behind the column for a moment, and then stepped out, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin in what seemed to Byakuya to be heartbreaking bravery.

"Let's go." Harribel caught his eye and nodded toward where Orihime had begun to progress toward them. 

Golden sparks were flying toward them. The sparks formed an amorphous glow around Byakuya, and he felt immediate relief from the aches and stings of the cuts and blows he had endured at the hands (and swords, and ceros) of his reluctant companions.

Harribel reached her hand up for her sword, but Grimmjow said, "It's just Orihime's fairy things. She's healing him," and she relaxed once more. 

After ten more seconds, the muzziness in his head, and the weakness weighing down his limbs, had started to clear and he knew that his lost blood was being replaced. Flanked by the Espada, Byakuya started walking. A few more steps along, he realized that no one was joining Orihime; were they all even stupider than he thought, to let her approach by herself? When he saw the others again, he would break more than a few of their skulls. 

When they met in the middle, Orihime just like always smiled in her gladness to see him, that smile of pure and joyful welcome that had been both Byakuya's downfall and salvation. A bolt of longing shot through his stomach at the sight of it. Her worried gaze roamed over him, then eased when she saw he would be fine after her fairies were through with him. 

She looked dusty and tired and perfect. But that didn't mean he was not still very angry with her. 

"Hey, Orihime-chan," said Grimmjow, sounding almost friendly, as if they'd only seen each other a week ago, and parted amicably.

"Hello, Grimmjow-san," she said, wary. "How's that arm?"

He held it out at his side, opening and closing his fist. "Still like new," he replied with his trademark grin. "You do good work." On Byakuya's other side, Harribel made an impatient sound, a sentiment with which Byakuya wholeheartedly agreed.

"Why are you here?" he demanded.

"I came for you," she said simply, and her heart was full in her eyes, making him catch his breath. 

"Why would you sacrifice yourself in this way?" He had to understand. He had to _know_.

She offered up another smile, this one a limp fascimile to the glowing one she'd given before. "Why did you go through the garganta?" she asked by way of answering. He narrowed his eyes at her; he was in no mood for riddles. "My answer is the same as yours."

Byakuya had done it because he loved her; he had not needed even a moment to consider the ramifications of his action, just known that he would give himself for her without needing to think about it: sheer reflex. He just stared at her; did she realize how telling her statement was? Was she finally admitting that her love for him was just as strong, her need for him to be safe just as fierce?

"Jesus motherfucking Christ on a cocksucking pogo stick!" shouted Grimmjow into the lengthening silence. "Is this a hostage exchange or a goddamned soap opera? Let's go." He grabbed Orihime's arm and made to yank her back toward their side of the ruins.

Byakuya's own hand lashed out and clamped down on the Espada's wrist, squeezing until he could feel the bones shift in his grasp. "Do not touch her." Grimmjow's response was to snarl at him, the light of battle brightening his eyes.

Beside them, Harribel sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but Orihime placed her hand on top of Byakuya's. "Don't," she said, her face beseeching as she peered up at him. "Please don't, Byakuya. It's fine." She peeled his hand from Grimmjow's arm and went to stand by Harribel. "I'm ready, Grimmjow-san, Harribel-san. Let's go."

They turned and began to walk back toward where one-legged Menoly, still bleeding onto the sand, and the other Arrancar were waiting; Byakuya watched for all of two seconds before starting to follow them. 

"Orihime." Byakuya hated how confused he sounded. "I cannot abandon you to Aizen and his minions. I will remain with you in captivity."

"Please, Byakuya," she said, turning back to him. Her eyes were huge, her face drawn. She looked frightened and resigned. "That would make all of this pointless. Trust me and do as I ask. _Please_ go to them."

Then Orihime turned and began to walk away. The Espada flanked her and together they began the brief journey toward the rest of the Hollows awaiting them by the far columns. She did not look back.

Byakuya followed them again. He did not know what else to do, how else to proceed. He would not let her go alone into a den of Hollows. 

The decision was taken from his hands when a black blur flashed by him. When it left, it took Byakuya with it, depositing him in the middle of the team before coming to a stop itself.

"Kurosaki," Byakuya said wearily. The healing sparks, which had remained with him this whole time, winked out, and he could feel Orihime's reiatsu growing distant as Sonido boomed. He didn't have to look around the cracked old pillar to know that she and the Espada contingent had departed. But he looked anyway. 

"Byakuya," Ichigo replied, sounding testy. "I would very much appreciate if you would explain to me what in the hell is going on. Why are you here? Why is  _Inoue_  here? Why are  _we_  here?"

Byakuya felt like a chain with a weak link, worn so thin he was perilously close to snapping. Without answering, he turned and walked to the edge of their hasty camp, which consisted of a circle of dusty stone blocks and a lot of kicked-around sand, to stare toward where Orihime and her escorts had disappeared into the lightless night. If any of them hurt her, he would mince them into a fine paste with Senbonzakura. In the recesses of his mind, he could feel his zanpakutou's agreement.

"Shit, Ichigo, just shut up," said Renji from behind him.

"I just want to understand," Ichigo persisted. "Why would Byakuya sacrifice himself to rescue her? Why would Inoue sacrifice herself to rescue  _him_? Why--"

"Because they're in  _love_ , you moron," snapped Momo, at the end of her patience. It wasn't easy for her to be here, after she'd fought so hard to leave her former captain in her past. Ichigo's blinding idiocy was making her cranky.

Ichigo fell abruptly silent. "In love?  _Inoue_? With  _Byakuya_? And _he's_ in love with _her_?" He looked gobsmacked. 

"Yeah, why shouldn't she be in love with him?" drawled Shinji. "You know someone more suitable for her? Like you, maybe?"

Ichigo's response was immediate. "Me? Pft. Inoue has better taste than to be in love with _me_. Besides, Ishida is more her type. I always wondered why they didn't date." A thoughtful expression crossed over his face. "He's been in love with her since high school, after all. Seems like they'd be a good couple."

They all stared at him in amazement. Momo pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Hm," Ichigo continued, more to himself, "now that I think of it, if Ishida's in love with Inoue, what about Chad? Is he in love with her, too?"

"Naw, man, he's in love with  _you_ ," Renji replied, his face deadpan. "Has been for years."

Ichigo went pale. "Um," he said. "I. I just. I'll be over there." He wandered off, a trifle unsteady, to stand by himself near one of the larger stones.

Iba snickered. "Sado's not really in love with him, is he?"

"Hell, no," said Renji with an enormous grin. "I just like to mess with him. Imagine how weird it'll be, the next time he sees the big guy." 

The two men emitted something very close to giggles.

"Renji, not for nothing, but I'm pretty irresistible, myself. You fall in love with me, I'll kill you."

"Iba, I fall in love with you, I'll kill  _myself_."

"Oh my god, kill  _me_ ," Momo moaned, pulling on her hair. "Hell is spending time with you fools."

"They're hard to take," Shinji agreed, trying to look wise.

She slanted him a narrow look. "Like you're any better."

"That's no way to talk to your beloved taichou," he yelped, sounding wounded. 

"Aaaaanyway. Group up, guys, it's time to discuss Orihime-chan's cunning plan." Renji waved his hands, motioning everyone closer. "Nemu-san, you're up. Orihime-chan didn't tell us her plot so it's up to you to enlighten us."

"It's very simple," Nemu said once they were all standing near enough to hear her. "I have implanted two chips in Inoue-sensei's mouth. One will enable her to communicate via telepathy with any or all of us. I would like to implant the same type of chip in each of you for the same reasons." She met each person's gaze. 

Once they had nodded at her, most with great reluctance, and all insisting she remove the devices the instant they had returned to Soul Society, she continued. 

"We will travel to Las Noches and space ourselves around its perimeter. Concealment of our reiatsu will be key at this point. On Inoue-sensei's mark, we will all flash-step into the castle and attack. The main point of the assault is to cause confusion so no organized effort can be made against us. Once they are defeated, Inoue-sensei will be able to move forward with her plan."

"Which is what?" asked Ichigo.

"Inoue-sensei will use her bankai to neutralize Aizen," Nemu replied, "though she did not share how she would accomplish this."

"Does her zanpakutou have some sort of super-effective weapon that the rest of us don't?" Iba asked. His tone was mocking. Byakuya wanted to stab him.

"She does, in fact, but killing doesn't seem like Orihime-chan's style," remarked Shinji. "It would take a lot of deadly intent for her to be able to rock that, and I think we all know that's not her strong point."

"I think she's planning on trapping him in a barrier of some sort," Momo said. "I know she studied a long time with Hachi-san of the Vaizard. Maybe instead of that chair and the kidou that are binding Aizen-taichou, she's got a more effective way of binding him."

Ichigo was mumbling something under his breath. It sounded a lot like, "...goes to this extent and then doesn't even tell anyone how she's going to do it..." but when he realized that everyone was staring at him he scowled even harder and demanded, "Whatever. We'll figure it out somehow. We always do. The other chip you implanted in Inoue. What's that do?"

Nemu paused before replying. "Upon activation, it will send a powerful electromagnetic surge through Inoue-sensei's body, resulting in instant and painless death."

Momo's mouth was a round O of surprise and comprehension. "That's what she meant when she said that she would not be used again. She sounded so sure... that must be why."

Ichigo made a disgusted sound, tossing his hands up in exasperation, and stomped away, muttering more uncomplimentary things. Renji and Iba looked like they had similar comments to make but, wiser than Ichigo and having caught Byakuya's gimlet eye, knew to keep them to themselves. 


	27. Chapter 27

 Harribel's sonido was even faster than Nemu's shunpou. By the time they had arrived back at Las Noches, Orihime was feeling windburned, a little dizzy, and a lot nauseated, both from the trip and from anixety at what was to come. Her arm was sore, too, from the iron grip Harribel had had on her the whole time. 

Harribel set her down before the huge white throne in which Aizen Sousuke reposed. Except for one eye and his nose and mouth, a black cloth covered his entire body. It must have been repressing his reiatsu; even from 20 feet away, Orihime could feel the negation taking place. It felt like there was a tiny black hole, a void, a nothingness gently sucking at her, trying to pull her in. Aizen's store of reiatsu must be truly monstrous to be able to withstand such a force for over ten years, and a thrill of terror rippled down Orihime's back at the thought of how much she was risking at this moment.

Ah, Orihime. My princess," Aizen purred, and her stomach jolted in rebellion. That was the tone of voice he had always used when he intimated that he would be making her his concubine; there was an oily feel to it, as if she could almost hear his underlying thoughts of what he'd do to her once he could get her alone. 

"Aizen-sama," she replied. There was only the slightest quaver in her voice, of which she was both surprised and pleased. She wanted to show him that she was no longer that scared little fifteen-year-old he'd had abducted and brutalized.

He had noticed. "You have grown in both beauty and poise," he commented, his single uncovered eye roaming over her. "A shinigami now, are you? That does not surprise me. I knew right away you were the only one powerful enough to be my consort."

_Ugh, **this** again_ , she thought, but only bowed in response to his compliment. 

"So obedient." He said the words slowly, his lips shaping them thoughtfully, seeming to taste their sibilance on his tongue. Another shiver, this one of revulsion, rolled through Orihime, turning her skin to gooseflesh. "I must confess, I had expected at least some token resistance on your part."

She forced a casual shrug. "We had a bargain. I gave you my word." Her gaze met his, then flickered away. She'd always sucked at maintaining eye contact during altercations, and clearly this wasn't going to be the time she managed to grow out of it. "One of us should be trustworthy; I figured it might as well be me."

His lone exposed eyebrow shot up. "And so bold," he murmured when he had recovered from this little surprise. "So _cynical_. I had not thought you capable of it."

"Nothing broken remains flawless," she replied tonelessly. It was something he had told her multiple times, usually after Menoly and Loly had roughed her up, or Nnoitra had groped her. He'd always said it with wonder in his deceptively beautiful voice, as if he was eager to see how much it would take to break her, and just couldn't wait for it to happen. 

"So bold," Aizen repeated, his expression both amused and interested. "I look forward, when I am free of this chair, to learning the other developments you've made since last we met."

Orihime just shrugged again. "I assume you want me to reverse the time you've spent in the chair."

"Yes," he said, almost before she'd finished speaking. "Begin now."

With a thought, she brought forth her two healing sparks and formed the usual mandorla-shaped film of gold that would restore a person to a previous state. 

A minute passed, and silence fell. Harribel was as silent and still as an Easter Island head, as was her wont, but Grimmjow was fidgeting in boredom before 30 seconds had passed. Aizen excused him, and he shot off to the far side of Las Noches to antagonize some Adjuchas into fighting him. 

"How long do you estimate it will take?" Aizen asked lazily. "One hopes you've spent the intervening decade becoming more efficient."

"Ah, no, sorry, Aizen-sama," she replied, pretending to be a little embarrassed at being as slow as when she was a teenager. "I've been so busy with going to college and medical school, there really wasn't time for practicing."

He just narrowed his eye at her, then let his head tilt back to rest against the chair, as if weary. "Just do as much as you can." He slide that eye in Harribel's direction. "And you, be ready for an attack by Kurosaki and the rest, because I don't believe for a moment that they'd just leave once we had her." Harribel gave a short nod, her face impassive.

Orihime took a deep breath and avoided eye contact as anxiety ratcheted through her at what was to come. Aizen might think he and his minions were ready for Byakuya and Ichigo and the rest to come, but he thought she was still an ineffective fighter, a weak pushover. She was the only variable, and she had to be strong, she had to be able to make the difference, because if she couldn't...

If she couldn't...

The alternative was too horrible to think about. No, she would do it. She _had_ to do it.

An image rose in her mind's eye, of Byakuya's face as she exchanged herself for him. He had looked so weary, before she had healed him, and worried and confused and angry, but shining through all of it had been love. For _her_. For Inoue Orihime, who hadn't been good enough to keep her father from beating her or her mother from abandoning her. Who hadn't been good enough to keep from being kidnapped and used against her friends, who hasn't been good enough to Ichigo to notice. A strong, fine, handsome man loved _her_ , of all people, and she could not let him down.

So she would do it for him. He deserved it.

She took a deep breath, and touched the tip of her tongue to the little communication device lodged in the soft flesh of her cheek. 

 

* * *

 

Anguish lanced through Byakuya's chest at the thought of Orihime having to commit suicide because they had all failed and she had to keep her abilities from being used as a weapon. All to save him, or at the very least, to buy him a little more time. It was rash, it was so very foolish... but if they were all to die, at least he would die knowing that she loved him. It was small comfort.

Then a beep sounded in everyone's minds, and Orihime's voice followed. "Hi, everyone! I'm in Las Noches now."

Byakuya wanted to shout at her and kiss her and lock her away and then kiss her some more, but settled for asking,  "Are you well?"

She paused a moment before replying, in the most tender voice imaginable, "I'm fine, Byakuya, thank you. Was I able to heal you back to 100%?"

"Yes. Thank you." His tone, too, was very gentle. The others all shifted, glancing at each other and generally feeling like they were barging in on a scene that they shouldn't have been privy to. 

"What's the plan, then?" Ichigo said into the somewhat awkward silence. "What will you do next? What should _we_ do next?"

"It seems like they need me to reverse the last decade for Aizen-sama, because the kidou binding him is so strong that none of the Espada or Arrancar left after the war can undo it. They were able to get his mouth and one eye uncovered, but that's it. He's still stuck in that chair. And very, very mad about it." Somehow she was able to convey laughter over the telepathic link. 

"So I've started rejecting the past ten years, but reaaaaaaalllly sllloooooowwwwlllyyyy," Orihime continued. "You have plenty of time to get here. Remember to hide your reiatsu, okay? That big dome that used to be over the arena in the center of Las Noches is smashed to smithereens, so you don't have to worry about getting inside-- it's all open to the sky. Aizen-sama is on one side of the arena, so I'll be there with him. Just come right over the walls and get started."

"What will you be doing once the fighting starts?" Shinji asked her.

"Oh, I'll be fighting, too! Just try to stay behind me in case I do something wrong. If anyone gets in front of me, there could be... problems."

A beat of silence; then Renji said, "What sort of problems?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to reject any of you out of existence! Haha!" It was not even a little bit funny. Byakuya recognized the barest trace of hysteria in her voice, and knew she was nervous and uncertain. "So everyone, just stay behind me at all times, okay? _At all times_."

"We got it, Inoue," Ichigo told her, trying to be reassuring, and mostly failing. They all darted wide-eyed looks of apprehension at each other. 

"So, I'll see you all soon! Ganbatte!" And the mental link went dead. 

"Well," Ichigo said with a sigh, "I guess we'd better get started."

 

* * *

 

When they swooped in upon Nemu's command, at first, there was chaos, but the hundreds of Hollows teeming in the arena soon rallied and began hurtling toward in the invading forces. Everyone seemed to have a target they were aiming for. Ichigo had claimed Grimmjow for his fight, and arrowed straight for his long-time nemesis. Shinji had already leeringly stated his intentions to take on all three Bestias. 

"I always love a gang-bang," he sang out as he zipped their way. 

"Ick," said Momo, and flash-stepped after him, rolling her eyes.

Byakuya's attention was trained solely on the two figures on the far end of the huge arena. She stood before Aizen, hands upraised while a shield pulsed golden around him. She glanced over their shoulder at their entrance, and the shield disappeared. Six sparks exploded from her on an intercept course with whichever Hollow had the bad fortune to be closest to her. 

Harribel shook herself free of her surprise before the others, and immediately made for Orihime. Byakuya launched himself into shunpou to intercept her, but to his shock, Renji was there first. 

"I'm your partner for this dance," he told her, and with a clash of swords they began their battle. Iba joined him, and together they deliberately blocked her from pursuing Orihime.

That threat eliminated, there were still plenty more to which Orihime was vulnerable, especially occupied as she was; all six of her fairies seemed to have been activated so she had no more to spare on her own defense. Her narrow back, in its black shihakushou, seemed particularly fragile. He sped forward and touched down directly behind her, forming Senbonzakura's blades in an undulating wave around them for protection. 

Right away, he could see that she seemed to be swaying a little, and a frisson of alarm rolled through him. It was barely a month since her recent depletion had almost turned her from a strong shinigami into a weak, powerless Plus. If she exhausted herself again, there might be no repairing the damage a second time. 

Orihime glanced over her shoulder again, and despite the gravity of their situation, there was that same glad smile lighting up her face at the sight of him. "I'm so happy you're here."

"Where else would I be?" Byakuya ran his gaze over her, checking for injury, and was dismayed to see the fatigue beginning to etch itself on her face. "You are weakening," he  stated. He stared past her at Aizen, who now glared balefully at them from his confining chair, fury roiling off him. 

"Nope!" she denied with forced cheer. "I feel fine, I feel great! Red bean paste power! Wasabi power!"

Byakuya rolled his eyes. "I can  _feel_  you, you know. Ever since I was in your inner world, I can feel you far more... intimately than before." He watched as her shoulders quivered. From his position at her back, he could view enough of her cheek to see it was turning pink. Ah, so even in a situation like this, he could affect her? Something innately male within him reared its head in satisfaction. 

He pitched his voice lower, and lowered his mouth to her ear. "I can feel you anywhere in Seireitei, and most of Rukongai, any time of the day or night. You are always with me."

He stopped then; what he had intended to be a light prodding to get her to hearken to their prior intimacy had turned into something that revealed far more of his own heart than he'd wished. 

Orihime trembled again, and her voice quavered when she replied, "Byakuya, I'm  _busy_  here! This is not the time to be sexy! If I get a nosebleed, it'll distract me, and this is important!"

"Point taken," he said, and straightened to his full height, eyes scanning the area even as he added, "You will be so kind as to inform me when the time is more appropriate for me to be... sexy?"

"Argh!" she huffed, and sent one spark through a rather large Adjuchas with so much force, there was a little sonic boom when the rent air slapped back together again. He wondered if that were in response to him or if she'd been able to gather enough of her power to release such a quantity. A glance at her still-blushing face told him it was a bit of each. 

"I will be sick," intoned Aizen from his chair. Byakuya shot him a glance; the former captain looked both calm and enraged at the same time, somehow, and a vein stood out on his temple, as if he were straining against his bonds, which he surely was. 

"Best not," Byakuya told him. "There is no one to clean you." 

He turned his back on Aizen and sliced in two a Numero who'd gotten ambitious and come at them; when the pieces flopped to the ground, he turned back to see a huge flood of Menos pour over the side of the arena: Gillians lumbering beside scuttling Adjuchas and, based on the terrifying amount of reiatsu hurtling toward them, several Vasto Lordes as well. 

"Oh, no," Orihime whimpered.

Byakuya rather shared that sentiment, and tossed Senbonzakura into the ground with a murmured "bankai". The huge swords rising from the sand convenience sliced through a goodly number of the weaker ones, but the Vasto Lordes dodged them with insulting ease, seeming almost amused. And, to his dismay, whatever Menos he'd killed were immediately replaced by another platoon behind them. 

Around them, he could see his fellows equally taxed. Thousands of Menos were attacking, from all sides and directly above as well. Even the combined power of all eight of them, and the four of them who had bankai, would not be able to defeat the sheer quantity of opponents.

"Well," Orihime said, sounding worried, "I guess it's time."

He glanced over at her, his hands never ceasing their movement in directing Senbonzakura in its lethal dance. He stepped back until he could feel her against him, wanting to lend her his strength and take a bit of comfort from her nearness. "For what?"

She just sighed, and her sparks left off their individual fights to return, burrowing into her. Byakuya hurried to intercept the Menos she'd abandoned, and dispatched them swiftly. 

"I am the first and I am the last," she whispered.

He frowned and turned to face her. She began glowing with a gentle golden light, and held out a hand. One spark coalesced in her cupped palm and floated skyward.

"What are you doing? Is this new?" he demanded, but she only cut her eyes to him and continued speaking.

"I am both honored and scorned." Her voice was a bit stronger. Her other hand was out, and a second spark formed in it before rising up.

"Orihime." This was his _you shall answer me_ tone of voice, but she seemed immune to it. 

"I am barren, and many are my sons." Now she spoke with growing confidence. A third ball of light appeared in her first hand and rose to join the other two.  

Her actions were drawing attention, or perhaps Aizen was communicating in a similarly telepathic manner with his minions, because Grimmjow darted across the arena with breathtaking speed toward them, Ichigo in hot pursuit in his wake. Byakuya flung up a wall a billion blades strong to shield them from his advance; a split second later, he was sending half those blades to his other side because Harribel was pelting their way with grim determination. 

"Gah, watch it, Taichou!" yelped Renji, and Byakuya realized he'd almost slain his lieutenant who'd been mid-interception when the blades had coursed by. Orihime seemed oblivious of it all.

"I am the union and I am the rending." A fourth spark pulsed out of her palm and wafted over to its fellows.

Power was gathering around and within her, immense power, and her glowing gained strength as well. An idea began to form in Byakuya's mind, a suspicion that left him both apprehensive and excited. 

"I am peace and yet I bring war." A fifth spark, this one a bit more forceful, as it exploded from her hand and show over to the first four. They were forming a circle, each linking to the next in an arc of pure, sparkling gold. 

"Orihime," he breathed. "You have --"

"I am the slave who rules the world," she finished, and the last spark flew up, forming the last point of the circle. "Bankai."


	28. Chapter 28

"Orihime," Byakuya breathed. "You have -"

"I am the slave who rules the world," she finished, and the last spark flew up, forming the last point of the circle. "Bankai."

Golden light exploded around them, rendering them all blind for a long, paralyzed moment. It faded to reveal the ring had shifted to form an orb,  gently bobbing five feet above the ground. In the center of the orb was Orihime, barely visible through the gleaming barrier. The orb began to shrink around her, and Byakuya realized that it was actually soaking into her, being absorbed by her body until it was gone.

…as was her clothing, which appeared to have simply disappeared. Instead of her shihakushou, she was wearing nothing but a scarf of what looked to be gauze woven from pure sunlight, drifting and winding around her body as if it were alive. Her hair was floating around her, like it would if she were underwater. Her skin looked different, too— it was sparkling, as if it had been dusted with gold powder.

And behind her head was a halo, with six small, petal-shaped spikes, all gleaming brightly, as if a little sun had taken position over her.

They all gaped witlessly at Orihime, even Aizen and his Espada, and for good reason: the gauze of the scarf was practically see-through, so the parts of her body it "covered" were still pretty much nude. A fiery blush scalded over her, and she began to wring her hands in dismay.

"Um. So. The being-naked thing was Tsubaki's idea of a joke," she mumbled to the knot she'd made of her fingers.

"Don't change on our account," said Shinji. His eyes were wide with delight, as if all his birthdays had come at once. Orihime's blush had faded everywhere but her face, which maintained its tomato-like hue at Shinji's comment. Byakuya shot him a glare that had the other man sidling away, for safety's sake.

Orihime in bankai would have been amazing by itself, and Orihime naked would have been even more so. Both at the same time had Byakuya nearly overwhelmed, and he made himself a promise to talk her into releasing her bankai at some point in the near future when they were alone.

Their opponents had begun to recover by this point, and the members of their group were engaging once again in their respective battles. Byakuya was just turning back to Orihime when fresh-scented air wafted by him on a current of sparkling light, and he spun to find that Orihime had dashed past to intercept an oncoming Hollow.

Orihime's embarrassment faded quickly when she noticed a little reptilian Adjuchas trying to sneak up on Byakuya when he was distracted by Shinji, and almost before she had a conscious thought about how to proceed, she was already doing it. It seemed like all she needed to get past her misgivings and worries regarding her powers (and her nudity) was for Byakuya to be in danger, and she went on Hollow-killing autopilot.

She was barely able to place herself between Byakuya and the Adjuchas before it struck, and the creature’s claws struck her bare arm with a _clang_ before bouncing off harmlessly. It was so weird, so counter to everything she knew and had experienced, that her shielding properties would have become a part of her body.

The Adjuchas reared back in shock, to be so rebuffed, but soon recovered and came in for another blow. Orihime held out her hand, and a shaft of golden light streamed from it, looking very sword-like. She made a slashing movement with her hand, and the light-sword passed through the Adjuchas, but left no wound behind.

Instead, a glimmering streak traced over where a sword would have struck, growing and expanding until the entire creature was overcome. It began convulsing, and in the space of mere moments, its more humanoid shape devolved as a half-dozen Gillians exploded out of it. They began roaring in wordless fury before advancing on Orihime.

She lashed out with her light-sword again, and this time, the Gillians each shattered into a hundred smaller, weaker Hollows. Orihime held out her other hand, and a beam of light shot from it, as well. She began sweeping both rays of light all over the arena before her. Wherever the light touched, a sizzling streak of gold was left behind across the Hollow’s body, expanding until the creature was overcome and split into whatever lesser souls had comprised its form.

Finally all that was left of the original Adjuchas were a thousand Plus souls, milling around in confusion. Aizen's face was impassive, but Grimmjow looked flabbergasted. Even Harribel seemed apprehensive.

"Leave me," Aizen directed his Arrancar. Grimmjow and Harribel shared a glance, and then shot away with a blur of Sonido.

"Shit," muttered Ichigo, and went after Grimmjow. Renji gave Orihime once last glance before going off in pursuit of Harribel. Nemu followed after, close on his heels.

The rest of them engaged the enemy once more, but they had little to do. Remembering Orihime’s warning, they remained behind her, because anything touched by Orihime's blade of light would be rejected back to a prior form. Over and over, each Numero, each Adjuchas and Gillian, were rejected back to their more basic components until they reached their original Plus soul states. The shinigami found themselves spending more time performing konsou on the Pluses than fighting.

When the last Plus had been sent on to Soul Society, and it was just them and Aizen, they gathered before his chair. His usual facility for deception seemed, for once, to fail him; he looked shaken and unsure.

"Well," he said, managing a touch of his usual aplomb, "Now we come to a true test of talents, do we not, Orihime? 

She came forward, aware that Byakuya and her friends were closing ranks around her and taking comfort in their presence and support. Byakuya took her hand and tugged her down from where she floated above the ground, until her feet touched the cool dry sands of Las Noches. 

"We do," she agreed, hating the wobble in her voice.

"Your desire to subdue me, versus my desire not to be subdued," Aizen continued. His smile turned dark. "I shall not make it easy for you, my dear."

Orihime was aware of how everyone was watching her, and felt an absurd spurt of stage-fright. To her relief, Byakuya stepped up behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his bare chest soak into her equally bare back. Taking a deep breath, she began.

"Daishichiten no sou kyozetsushun*[1]," she pronounced. Her halo writhed overhead, and six sparks shot off of it to surround Aizen. "Seventh heaven total rejection shield."

One spark burrowed into the sand beneath the chair; one took position above. The last four formed a ring about him. Lines of golden energy burst from each to connect to the others, and the chair rose from the ground to hang, ponderous, in mid-air. Orihime stepped forward, and she formed the seventh and final angle as the lines of energy zipped toward her.

"So now what?" Aizen asked, his tone breezy, as if they were at lunch and trying to decide if they would have dessert or not. "I have taken your measure, and I know you intend to reject me to a prior state of weakness, so that you may slay me." His mouth, so beautifully shaped and mobile, curved into a cruel smile. "The question appears to be whether or not you can accomplish this not-insignificant task before I can break free and kill you all."

His sole exposed eye gleamed with malice. "Because make no mistake; you will falter, and when you do, I will take that opportunity and cause your deaths in the most excruciating way imaginable. You will beg me to end you, and I will show you no mercy at all."

"Yes, well, you can try," Orihime replied nervously. "But I'm not going to let you." When he began laughing at her, she scowled. "I _am_. I have to. I have to protect everyone." She glanced around, her gaze lingering on Byakuya before facing Aizen once more. "This will be better for you, too, Aizen-sama. Eternity sealed to a chair, conscious but trapped, is no way to exist."

"You will regret this," he told her, his voice loathing made into sound. "You will hate yourself for taking a life."

"Probably," she agreed sadly. "But that's part of being a soldier. I can't only heal with my zanpakutou and expect that to be enough. There was going to come a day when I'd have to hurt with it, too."

Ichigo and Renji returned, then, both cursing viciously. "They were too fast," Ichigo groused. "We didn't want to go too far from Las Noches while you were doing... this." It was clear he had no idea what "this" was.

"Nemu decided to continue after them." Renji added, swiping a forearm over his sweaty forehead. "What's happening?"

"Orihime-chan was just about to kill him," said Momo coldly, surprising everyone (not least of all Aizen himself) with her businesslike tone. He smiled at her, amused by her show of bloodthirst. She gave him flat eyes, her face revealing nothing of what she might be thinking in that moment.

"Ah, good," replied Renji with a rather bloodthirsty grin of his own.

Byakuya didn't care about their revenge upon their foe. He was concerned with Orihime's state of mind. Aizen was not wrong; she would indeed hate herself for killing him. "You do not have to do this. He is secure; we will bind him and return to Soul Society and imprison him again."

"No." Orihime was terrified, but her voice was rock-solid with conviction. "We tried that already, and it didn't work for long. We can't trust that we can keep him imprisoned forever. No, this has to be over, once and for all."

Silence fell, broken only by the buzzing of the power lines joining her sprites and herself in an impenetrable, glowing shield. Orihime gathered her strength, and _pushed_.

Aizen arched back, as much as he could, confined as he was in the chair. The golden light coalesced around him before blowing outward in rays like sunlight streaming from between clouds. When it cleared away, the black-swathed Aizen was no longer there, nor was the chair.

In its place was Aizen just before his defeat, in a shredded white robe and waist-long hair that snapped and furled in the wind created from the force of the power's movement. The left side of his face was covered in the pale bone of a Hollow mask, and his right eye's black sclera was centered by a white pupil and iris.

"Ah," he said in satisfaction, stretching his limbs as the greater power level infused him. "That's more like it." He peered out at them. "I am duly impressed, my princess."

"I'm not your princess," she shot back, repulsed that he would continue to refer to her by such a proprietary term. "And don't get too used to this form. You won't have it long."

She began gathering more power. She was starting to feel a little nervous, because that big rejection, worked against someone fighting it so strongly, had taken a lot out of her and there was so much left to do. What if she ran out of juice and couldn’t finish, when he was still too strong for the rest of them to fight and defeat?

"Please work," she chanted under her breath. "Please, please work."

Byakuya released her hand to grasp her waist, holding her snug against him, anchoring her to the ground and providing her with solid warmth all down her back.

"You can do this," he murmured in her ear. "I believe in your strength and conviction. We all do. You will finish this, Orihime."

She looked at him from over her shoulder, and she knew her adoration for him shone like a star. His breath caught, and he touched his lips to her temple, more promise than kiss.

“Yeah, Orihime-chan,” said Renji with his trademark grin. “This’ll be nothing.”

Ichigo gazed at her, his expression serious and his body tense, as if he didn’t know quite what to do with himself if he were leaving the battle up to someone else.

“You got this, Inoue,” he said at last. “You’re the strongest of all of us.”

Orihime seriously doubted that, but she appreciated his attempt to give her confidence.

"Yes," she told him. "I will finish this. For all of us." She turned back to Aizen. "For you as well, Aizen-sama. Because I think you need peace, too."

His mismatched eyes narrowed. "I know what you will try to do. Be aware I will not let you."

She offered a shaky smile. "You can try. But Byakuya believes I can manage it, so I can. So. Here I go."

She _pushed_ again, and this time an even bigger gout of power surged from her, infusing the lines of the box containing him. This time, when the waves of light surged into him, his body flew backwards to hit the far wall of the box, twitching and buffeted by the forces wracking him.

The light coalesced again, cleared again, and for a few seconds Orihime felt a bolt of sheer terror pierce her. Aizen stood before them in a new, grotesque form: triple sets of butterfly wings, but the wings were pointed, with gnashing, fanged mouths at the top and writhing with tentacles below. Each wing had a long black eye in its center, staring out with malevolent intent.

Aizen's body was white, but his head, feet, and arms were black and utterly inhuman; the feet were oddly clawed, the arms were black and the right one ended in his zanpakutou instead of a hand. And the head... the head was a Hollow mask, dark as charcoal with white teeth and a white third eye bisecting his forehead. Framing the mask was the skin of his former face, split open to each side to reveal the rotten core beneath.

The evil and malice blowing off him had Byakuya hissing, "Orihime, he cannot remain like this. Your shields will not hold."

Indeed, several cracks had begun to form along one of the golden lines of the pillar. Byakuya put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. Orihime hurried and shoved more power outward. The shield was suffused with light again, and when it cleared, Aizen was different once more.

This time, he was less powerful than the previous inhuman version of himself. He still looked alien, but this time was recognizable as himself-- his own face was back, and he had hair again, but his eyes were still black and the third eye was still spitting hatred from the center of his brow.

"Orihime," Aizen said, and his voice resonated and vibrated, plucking some string deep within the soul. It felt stirring, compelling one to obey it, and at the same time deeply repulsive. "I would have preferred you leave me at the last-- most powerful-- stage of my evolution, but this..." He sighed, stretching his arms out to either side, "-- this will do just as well."

He approached the front wall of the shield, tapping one long finger against it while it hissed and spat sparks, and a cobweb of fractures spread out at the point of contact.

"Come, my dear. You're far too special to waste yourself on these mere mortals. Become my queen, and I will make you immortal. We shall rule the heavens and earth and everything in between, together."

"No, thank you, Aizen-sama," Orihime replied politely, gathering up more strength for a big push. When it came, she stumbled back against Byakuya. Aizen was fighting her with everything he had, and rejecting him back to an earlier point in time— even though she was only sending him back a few minutes prior to the previous one— felt like trying to shove an elephant through a keyhole.

_Push_. Aizen was now featuring waist-long waves of chestnut hair almost the same shade as Orihime's. The shreds of a white robe floated around him, and his eyes were nothing but merciless black pits. He did not speak, merely gazed at Orihime with oceans of animosity and spite in those voids.

_Push_. This time, when the light cleared, Aizen was entirely enclosed in a tight white substance; it moved like cloth, but the texture was akin to bone. His face was nothing but blank pale canvas interrupted only by those eerie, empty eyes. His reiatsu was orders lower than it had been when he wore the black Hollow mask, and Orihime let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

_Push_. The fading light revealed Aizen looking almost normal, his hair short with one lock spilling in front of his face, and his robe was marked by a star with four long, pointed rays, centered by the Hougyoku itself. As Orihime caught her breath and they watched, the rays of the star began to spread outward, wrapping Aizen in the first stages of his cocoon.

"Even you aren't strong enough to hold back the Hougyoku when it wants to proceed!" Aizen gloated from beyond his barrier.

Orihime gasped and forced a huge surge of power into the pillar. After it dissipated, all that was left was Aizen, the man. The shinigami, rather, and a strong one, but nothing more. He gazed down at his perfectly normal hands, then threw back his head and howled in rage as thousands of silvery wisps streamed off him. When the last one faded away to nothingness, he toppled over, unconscious.

"What were those?" Momo whispered.

"Those were the souls contained by the Hougyoku," Shinji replied. "Could you not feel them? She undid the whole damned thing. They're free now."

"You have done well," Byakuya told Orihime, running his hands up and down her arms, trying to comfort and reassure her. "There is no one in any of these three worlds who could have done as well."

"Yeah, well," she said tiredly, "that was the least of it. The hardest part starts now."

"What?" Beneath his hands, she was trembling and leaning against him so heavily he was supporting most of her weight. Worse, her reiatsu was starting to dip into worryingly low levels.

"For all that it was hard to reject him back past his evolutions," she explained breathlessly, "it was only a few years I had to wind back. The next part..."

"What's the next part?" Iba wanted to know.

"The next part is where I send him back."

"How far back?" Ichigo demanded.

"All the way," said Orihime. "I'm going to reject him back to the moment of his conception, and put him in stasis."

They all gaped at her.

Momo stammered, "You-- that--"

"That's when the soul is engaged in the body of a person," Orihime explained. "It'll fix his soul in place, so it can't go causing problems by showing up in other people. If I kill him now, he'll just reincarnate, and there's no telling what trouble he'll get up to. We'll end up having World War Three in thirty years."

She paused and put a finger to her chin, contemplating. "So that's out. But if I reject him to a point earlier in this lifetime-- say, when he's a baby-- if the stasis fails, he'll just grow up to be the same psychopath we know and love."

"And if you reject him back to before conception, he'll return to his previous incarnation on Earth, and be able to wreak havoc in that way," Byakuya said as her plan unfolded. It was sheer genius; Urahara and Kurotsuchi would be eaten with jealousy for so nefarious a plot. He could not have been prouder had he thought of it himself. Judging by the poleaxed expressions on the others' faces, they were similarly stricken by amazement.

She nodded shyly. "So, I'd better get to it." She squared her narrow shoulders, trying valiantly to conceal their tired trembling, and Byakuya's concern for her health swept back through him.

"Can this be done at another time?" he asked her, "because I worry that you will make yourself ill again."

Orihime shook her head. "It has to be now. There are too many variables. Grimmjow and Harribel could return at any minute, and then where would we be? He's not in that chair anymore, and he's still very, very strong."

"Then take from me," he urged, and wrapped his arms around her waist, sending his reiatsu down into her as he had when she had been ill, those months ago. Inside the depths of her soul, he could feel her tension and fear and weariness.

"From me, too," said Momo. She wrapped her little hand around Orihime's wrist and closed her eyes in concentration, inhaling deeply at the feel of entering the other girl's soul.

Renji blew out a gusty sigh and went to plant himself back-to-back with his captain, pushing his reiatsu into Byakuya, who then pushed it into Orihime. Then Iba stepped up and clapped a hand on Renji's shoulder, and Shinji linked a skinny arm through that of his ever-patient lieutenant.

Ichigo was last, stationing himself at Orihime's side. He took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and looked resolutely forward to where Aizen's limp form slumped in the bottom of the shield.

Orihime felt their power streaming into her, swirling around and replacing her depleted strength, and her wary hope gave way to a burgeoning confidence. "Here we go," she said.

_Push_. The golden light permeated the confines of the shield, and Aizen's body. It took some time, but within a minute, he had morphed from evil-Aizen, with the forelock, back to Aizen-taichou in his nerdy glasses and captain's coat. Another minute later, he was looking noticeably younger, and wearing the lieutenant's shield on his arm.

"How fast is this working?" Renji asked, craning his head over his and his captain's shoulders to see what progress was being made.

"About a year each second, I think," Orihime answered. "This is the first time I've actually done it, so I can't be entirely sure."

"He was at least three hundred years old," Momo said quietly. "You've gone back about 100 years so far."

Orihime patted Momo's hand where it lay on her wrist. "You're being so strong about this, Momo-chan," she said. "You're so brave."

Momo just looked at her, incredulous. "Me? Me? I haven't done hardly anything, it's you that--"

"Just take the damned compliment," Shinji groused. Momo subsided into disgruntled silence, but threw a sharp elbow into his ribs, jostling him free of their little cluster and tripping so that he tumbled into the shield just as Orihime gave another push.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, reining in her thrust of power, then flinging out an arm to prevent Momo from pelting through the shield after him. "Don't go in! It might reject you back to long ago!" She blew out a sigh. "We have to wait for him to come out on his own."

They waited for a second, then two, watching Shinji, but he just remained on hands and knees, shaking his head like a wet dog as his hair grew from its shoulder-length bob down to his waist.

"Uh-oh," Orihime whispered.

Iba squinted through the gleaming golden streamers of light. "Hirako-taichou, come on out, hey?"

Shinji turned his head and stared at them. "What the hell is going on?"

Momo was regretful for pushing him in, but not so regretful that she wasn't still incredibly irritated by him. "We'll explain as soon as you come out here, dammit."

Shinji scowled but responded to her commanding tone, stumbling out of the shield. Momo and Iba caught him, easing him down to the sand.

"Who are you people?" Shinji demanded, studying each one in turn. He squinted at Iba. "You, you look like Rose's lieutenant, but who are you, bossy little manju-head?" He poked the little cloth pouch Momo used to cover her hair bun.

"Just sit there and try not to cause too much trouble," she hissed at him, swatting at his hand. "You'll have all the answers you need or want when we're done."

"But what are you doing?" he whined, then shrank back when she turned on him with a ferocious glare. "Okay, fine, shutting up now." He folded his arms and stared at them, sulking.

Orihime could feel Byakuya's impatience, as deeply buried in her soul as he was. She patted his hands where they rested at her waist. There was no telling what his reaction would be when she revealed her motives for pulling away from him, those months ago, or when he learned about the Kuchiki elders' meddling and intentions to depose him. They were going to have to endure some really unpleasant conversations when this was all over, but for now, it was enough to have him close and know he was safe.

"I'm going again," she announced, and gave another push. When she was done, Aizen was in that gawky, lanky teenage stage, totally at odds with his man-about-town smoothness of later years.

_Push_ , and he was a child of about ten.

_Push_ , and he was a toddler.

_Push_ , and he was a newborn. He was awake again, and seemed alert, his hazy eyes reflecting the glow of the shield's framework as it hummed around him. The irony of the moment-- having to neutralize a harmless infant-- as well as the tragedy of his misdirected life, and the lengths she'd had to go to to protect the world-- pierced her for a moment.

"I don't dare go quickly now," Orihime whispered. "It would be too easy to overshoot my target."

"Take your time, then," Byakuya urged. He had rested his cheek against her hair, and now he tilted his head forward to place a kiss on her cheek. She let her head drop back against his shoulder and closed her eyes, just for a moment.

"Okay." Now she had to really concentrate. She sent her consciousness through the lines of energy, feeling every quiver of them strumming through her mind, and let tiny pulses of power seep inward to the occupant of her shield.

_Pulse_. Aizen shrank in size, just a little, but an umbilical cord faded into existence.

_Pulse_. He regressed in development, went from "baby" to "fetus", able to be held in a cupped hand, his skin ghostly behind the translucent film of amniotic sac enclosing him.

_Pulse_. Aizen shrank again, barely visible now, and became "embryo". His hands and feet were webbed, now, and his bones were visible through the thin tissues of flesh, as was the tiny flutter of a nascent heart.

Orihime sent the faintest little thrust of power forward and contracted the shield to the size of a thimble around the minuscule being it enclosed. The eyes of her mind searched through the shield, observing how the cells merged, halving again and again until there were just four.

Then two.

Then one.

"There," she breathed. "Right there." She froze everything, sending a plea to her fairies to be vigilant in their maintenance of this little stasis pocket, then slumping back against Byakuya as her knees gave out.

He held her securely against his own body as his gaze swept critically over the others, searching for the one who would be the least careless. "Hinamori-fukutaichou."

"Yes, sir?" she replied, turning from where she'd been trying to explain to her captain, as quietly as possible, what was going on. Byakuya liked her professionalism and fortitude in the face of adversity; maybe he could convince Renji to switch divisions with her. From what he could tell of Hirako, it was clear that working with Renji would be a meeting of equal minds.

"Take the shield with... the prisoner... and ensure it is secure while we return to Soul Society. Give it into Soi Fong-taichou's keeping upon our arrival."

"Yes, sir." Resolute, she bent and plucked the small, gold-glowing container from the sand and closed her fist around it.

Now that it was all over, they all exchanged glances, then burst into relieved, slightly hysterical laughter.

"I can't believe we did it!" crowed Iba.

" _Who_ did it?" asked Ichigo with a touch of acid.

"It was a group effort," Iba said, defensive. "I was here for Ikkaku. The rest of you were paying your dues to that crazy bastard."

Ichigo growled, but Orihime touched her hand to his sleeve.

"Kurosaki-kun," she said, "it's fine. I couldn't have done it without everyone's help." She beamed a smile around, encompassing them all. "So, hey, don't anyone panic or anything. But I'm really tired, and I'm going to sleep for a bit, okay? Okay."

Then she fainted, her glow winking abruptly out and her filmy scarf morphing back into her shihakushou. Byakuya caught her before she could drop to the sand, sweeping her up into his arms.

"I want to get her to Fourth Division as soon as possible," he said, frowning down as Orihime's exhausted face.

"Anyone know of a way back to Soul Society?" asked Renji, his voice echoing around the empty arena as he peered around at their surroundings. There were no bodies; Orihime had seen to that. Apart from the wildly disturbed sand at their feet, there was no evidence at all of a battle having been fought.

"Do you think Nemu-san's garganta device will be able to work again?" Momo asked worriedly. "I don't want to be stuck here."

Ichigo was busy poking his tongue into his cheeks, searching for the chip that allowed him to communicate with Nemu. A crackle of static in everyone's mind announced his success. "Nemu-san? We're done here. Can you join us? We need to go back."

"I am returning with the Arrancar, Kurosaki-san," came that woman's toneless voice.

That statement was met with raised eyebrows all around.

"She beat them both?" Iba said. "Woman's got a hell of a lot of skills."

Nemu blurred into view on the end of a flash-step. "I believe the saying goes, 'you do not know the half of it', Iba-fukutaichou," she told him.

Before he could reply. Harribel and Grimmjow arrived, causing everyone assembled to tense and reach for their weapons.

"They will not attack." Nemu lifted a hand to indicate that all parties should stand down. "We came to a détente after some discussion. With Aizen gone, they no longer have any reason to continue fighting."

Grimmjow grunted and side-eyed Ichigo, fingering the hilt of his sword as if itching to use it on the other man. Ichigo, for his part, threw a narrow glance right back at him.

"While Aizen was incarcerated, Harribel and Grimmjow acted as _de facto_ rulers of Hueco Mundo," said Nemu. "Chaotic though this dimension might be, it still requires some level of control to be held over it, or we risk aggression from leaderless Arrancar into Soul Society and the Living World. There are no others powerful enough to hold this role. I suggest we leave them here to continue their rule as before."

"They have to promise not to try anything like this again." Ichigo stepped forward and inflicted some deadly eye contact with both Espada. "Aizen is gone, now, permanently. There will be no more attempts to resurrect him, or restore him to power, or anything else having to do with him. You'll have your dimension, and we have ours. Every shinigami in existence will be given orders to kill you on sight, and if you return to either Soul Society or the Living World again, they'll do it."

"They can try," Grimmjow growled.

Harribel slanted him a repressive glare, and shot a bolt of pure reiatsu at him like a laser beam. He yelped and subsided into silence, though not without some evil glaring of his own in return.

"We agree," was all she said, then gestured with her hand; a faint screeching, like nails on a blackboard, heralded the tearing open a rift between that dimension and the next. "To speed you on your way."

Momo grabbed Shinji's arm and pulled him through, followed swiftly by Iba. Byakuya stepped through, Orihime dangling limply from his embrace, Renji close in their wake. Ichigo was last to go, sidling over to the garganta while studying the Espada closely to make sure they didn't try anything.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, just _go_ already," exclaimed Grimmjow, and kicked Ichigo in the stomach, sending him hurtling backward through the maw of the portal into the blackness beyond.

 

[1] * This is my feeble attempt to create a name for the action, as occurs in the original content. I'm very sorry for its ridiculousness.


	29. Chapter 29

When Orihime next opened her eyes, it was to see Ishida Uryuu seated by her side. A book was open on his crossed knees and his cheek rested on his fist as those indigo eyes of his moved swiftly over and down the page.

A dozen different questions pelted her brain: why was Uryuu there? And where was ‘there’, anyway? It definitely looked like one of the hospital’s recovery rooms. Where was everyone who had been in Hueco Mundo with her? What had happened after she had fainted? Most importantly, where was Byakuya?

“Uryuu-kun,” she croaked.

He immediately looked up, a smile breaking across his narrow face. “Orihime,” he said, and put the book aside. “How do you feel?”

Orihime took a personal inventory: she was wearing one of the hospital’s standard-issue sleeping yukatas. She felt pretty good, all things considered, if a little stiff for laying still for so long. And she was very, very thirsty. She tried to sit up more, to stretch out her arm to lift the pitcher, but the room spun around her and she lay back against the pillows.

“Could I have some water?” she asked, glancing at the pitcher and glass on the side table. Uryuu poured her a drink, and she took it with with deep gratitude, chugging it in one long go. “Ah,” she sighed, and lay back against the mound of pillows behind her back. Now that she wasn’t about to dry up and blow away like a tumbleweed, it was time to deal with the first order of business.

“Where is Byakuya?”

Uryuu smiled again. “I had a feeling that would be your first question.” He took the glass and replaced it on the table. “Kuchiki-taichou refused to leave your side at first, but he was ordered to return to his division after the first day.”

“The _first_ day? How long have I been here?” Orihime stared at him, her eyes wide. “I didn’t get as sick this time as I did last time, did I?”

“Not quite,” Uryuu replied. “It’s been three days, just like last time, but you didn’t need the intensive donation as you did before, just a lot of rest.” He paused, considering her in silence for a moment. “You have done an amazing thing, Orihime. Truly extraordinary.”

She felt a blush fire up her cheeks. “I just used my ability the best I could,” she mumbled. “Just like you do when you use your Quincy powers.”

Uryuu’s smile faded swiftly at that, and he physically withdrew from her, sitting back in his chair and seeming to become smaller, somehow. Orihime studied him, wondering what she’d said wrong, and realized that he didn’t feel as he usually did. As a Quincy, his power signature was different from the nothingness of a living person, the faint current of a Plus soul, or the acrid tang of a Hollow. Instead, he felt like…

“Uryuu-kun,” she said as a sinking feeling weighed down her stomach, “how is it you’re a shinigami?”

He said nothing, just looked at her from eyes that seemed very lost before dropping his gaze to where his hands lay, very still, on his legs. A fine tremor went through him.

“Did you die?” Orihime tossed back the covers and slung her legs over the side of the bed, reaching over to grab his hands. She still felt dizzy but that was irrelevant. “Uryuu-kun, did you die?”

He nodded grimly. “I was at your apartment— Tatsuki-san’s apartment, now— when Grimmjow attacked. The ceiling collapsed.”

Orihime’s stomach plummeted even further, somehow. “Is Tatsuki-chan hurt? Does she need me? And I’ve been laying here doing nothing for three days— just let me get dressed—”

She was halfway to the other side of the room, where a shihakushou hung on a peg on the wall, when Uryuu caught her arm and turned her around to face him.

“She’s fine. I blocked the debris from hitting her. But a big chunk of ceiling hit my head. That’s what killed me.”

Orihime’s eyes filled with tears. “Uryuu-kuuuuuuuuuuuuun,” she wailed, throwing herself into his arms. He held her loosely while patting her shoulder in the way he had perfected after long years of helping her cope with her various emotional traumas.

Byakuya blurred into the room at the end of a flash-step. “What is wrong?” he demanded, his gaze roving the room until it lit on Orihime. He seemed at first relieved that she was fine, then irritated to find her in the embrace of another man. “I could feel your reiatsu spike from my division.”

“Byakuya!” she exclaimed, and pitched herself at him next. His arms were open to her before she’d gotten halfway there, and she folded herself into them, her own going around his waist to cling like a barnacle. Her sorrow for Uryuu crashed into her almost pathetically fervent pleasure to see Byakuya, hale and whole.

Overwhelmed, Orihime just slumped against his chest and wept until her head was pounding and she couldn’t breathe through her nose anymore. Dimly, she was aware of being lifted and carried, then being eased into a warm, sexy-smelling cocoon of some sort. It felt comforting, and safe, and gradually she calmed down enough to subside into a series of alternating sniffles and hiccups.

She raised her head from the damp spot she’d created on Byakuya’s kosode and saw he had sat on the bed, leaning back against the pillows, and draped her across his lap. His arms were close around her, and he had pulled her into the warm shelter of his captain’s haori. Uryuu had left the room.

“Are you well, Byakuya?” she asked, worried about his state since she hadn’t seen him in three days. “Do you need any healing? Does anyone else? What should I do?”

He tilted his head down to meet her gaze, his countenance one of pure exasperation. “Everyone is well. I am well. The others are well. The only one who isn’t well is you. So you shall not be healing anyone, nor doing anything but concentrating on regaining your own health, until Unohana-taichou deems you returned to normal.”

“Oh, but—”

He kissed her. Orihime had to admit it was an effective way of shutting her up, because any and all concerns— heck, any and all thought whatsoever— ground to a screeching halt due to every nerve ending in her body standing up and saluting with great enthusiasm.

Byakuya kissed her gently, he kissed her deeply, he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her until she was sure little canaries were flying in circles around her head, chirping madly.

“Okay,” she said, feeling dazed, when he finally pulled back. _Wow_. He was looking at her so intently, his entire focus upon her. “So if everyone is fine— Uryuu-kun’s death notwithstanding— then what has happened in the past few days since Hueco Mundo? Uryuu-kun said…”

Here, she paused, ducking her head shyly. “Uryuu-kun said that you stayed by my side for an entire day.”

He shifted under her, and she looked up to find him frowning. “I stayed at night, also, and would have stayed the whole time, but Yamamoto-soutaichou ordered me back to my division during working hours. Ishida-san was happy to remain when I could not, however.”

He had spent three nights by her side, only leaving when commanded? She reached up to caress his cheek in wonder, staring up at him, too overwhelmed to speak. Had she thought him handsome before? In that moment, he was blinding, glorious, a masterpiece.

“Orihime?” Byakuya asked, frowning a little when she remained silent. He studied her right back, obviously confused, and she could tell the moment he understood why she wasn’t talking, because a slow tide of pink rose over his cheeks.

“Orihime,” he muttered, averting his eyes, gazing determinedly out the window as he blushed really, really hard. “Do not look at me like that.”

“Why not?” She cupped his face and steered it back to her so she could look right into his beautiful eyes. “How am I looking at you?”

His hand went up to touch the curve of her lips. “The same way I look at you, I am sure,” he murmured. Since his expression was one of abject adoration, that was likely true.

Orihime smiled up at him, feeling the happiness brim up within her until it spilled over. She ran her thumb over the sleek line of his eyebrow.

“I’m having a lot of trouble believing that this is happening. To me, at least. I can imagine it happening to other women. Or men. You’d be adorable as half of a gay couple.”

He blinked at that, before saying, “Orihime, what are you talking about?”

“I’m saying that you are amazing. You have amazed me. I am amazed.”

“At what?”

“That someone as… as exalted as you could feel anything for me.”

“Exalted? You make me sound like a god.” He nuzzled her temple with his nose, his lips curled in a faint smile. “I assure you, I am nothing but a very flawed man, no matter how the clan elders have tried to excise the humanity from me. And as a mere mortal, I am equally amazed that someone as exceptional as yourself might...”

“Might what?” Orihime asked pertly. “Might think you’re the best-looking, smartest, sexiest, strongest, most talented and sweet and gentle and kind and generous—”

He kissed her again. When he pulled back, his expression was both fond and amused. “I have no idea which head injury you have sustained to have formed such an undeservedly positive opinion of me. But my gratitude for it is boundless.”

She pressed her face against the pine-and-spice scent of his neck and sighed. “Apart from my power to reject, I’m not exceptional at all. I am more ordinary than you know. Some day, I’ll have to tell you more about…”

“About?” he prompted.

“About my past. My family,” she clarified with reluctance. Her childhood was a horror story best left untold. “But not today. Too much is happening today. We have a lot to talk about, about things that are happening right now.”

“Indeed we do,” Byakuya agreed. “I require an explanation for the misery you have caused us these months.” He looked as stern as an utterly besotted man could look, which is to say, not very much. “But unfortunately, we have not the time for it right now. Yamamoto-soutaichou has a standing order that you be brought before him to account for your actions as soon as you awoke.”

He nodded toward the shihakushou hanging on the wall, waraji neatly aligned beneath it. “I had one of your uniforms put there, and your toiletries are in the bathroom.”

He had to be the most considerate man in existence. Orihime hugged him so fiercely he wheezed, then scampered off his lap. “Do I have time for a shower?”

He nodded, unwinding his tall frame from the bed at a slower pace. “I will notify Yamamoto-soutaichou that you are awake. It will take some time for the other captains and their lieutenants to become available and make their way to the First Division.”

Orihime grimaced as she plucked the uniform from its peg and made her way to the bathroom. “It has to be in front of everyone?”

Byakuya nodded again. “You will not be alone. You know that I, and the others, will defend you.”

The man’s loyalty, once won, never wavered. That deserved some recognition. Orihime tossed the uniform into the sink, then went back to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning in.

“You’re wonderful,” she said, her eyes starry as she tilted her face up. “I love you.”

He went still, eyes closing almost as if in pain, standing frozen in the circle of her embrace.

“Byakuya?” Orihime asked, her voice very small. “Did… did I say something wrong?” She shrank back into herself, but he grasped her arms and pulled them up around his neck and clasped her tightly in his own.

“You said nothing wrong,” he said hoarsely, and buried his face against her throat before muttering, “You are the first person to ever have said that to me.”

“Well,” she said after a few moments, trying hard to steady her voice. It came out wobbly anyway. “Even if people haven’t said it to you, you know they feel it for you. Rukia-chan adores you, and Renji-kun esteems you very highly. Your grandfather speaks of you with great pride. Kurosaki-kun considers you one of his most trustworthy allies. Even Uryuu-kun respects you, and he’s a tough one to impress.”

“I don’t care about any of them, as long as you do.” He paused, considering. “Perhaps I care if Rukia does.”

She pulled back, just enough to take his face in her hands. “She does. We all do.” Those elders had a lot to answer for. She couldn’t wait to give them a piece of her mind.

She kissed him, her head reeling that she had the right to do it, that he would permit and even welcome it. After denying herself for so long, she could scarcely believe it. He responded with enthusiasm, and the sweetness of it turned dark and sharp in an instant.

Suddenly, Orihime couldn’t get close enough to Byakuya, couldn't touch enough of his skin or mesh her mouth with his with enough pressure to satisfy. Her fingers threaded through his hair and she pressed her breasts against his chest, thrilling at how he groaned into her mouth and slid his hands down to cup her backside and lift her up against what seemed to be a very fine erection.

Dimly, she heard a knocking sound in the far distance.

_Knock knock_ , it went. She ignored it. Arousal and pleasure stabbed through her chest and belly, and she whimpered, feeling starved for the feel of him. The hard column of his arousal thrust against her belly, then lower, across an area that thrummed sharply in reaction.

_Knock knock_ , it went again. She ignored it once more. It couldn’t possibly be as important as rubbing herself like a cat in heat against the most gorgeous man alive.

“Ohgodyes,” she moaned with a slide of her hips to the left, then to the right, in an attempt to intensify the sensations sparking through her veins.

_“Orihime_ ,” a voice shouted in her ear, and she jerked away from Byakuya to find Uryuu standing very close to them, looking incredibly annoyed.

“I’ve been knocking on the door for five minutes,” he said, his mild tone at odds with with his irritated expression. “Unohana-taichou is aware you’re awake and has sent word of it to the soutaichou, so you’re expected there as soon as possible.”

Byakuya gently disengaged her arms from around his neck and stepped back. He tugged his haori around him so it provided a measure of camouflage for his interesting condition. Orihime noticed with a grin that, embarrassed to have been caught in such a state, he carefully avoided eye contact with Uryuu.

“You go on ahead,” she told him. “I’ll shower quickly and meet you there.”

He gave her a brisk nod and took a stride toward the door, then stopped. He wheeled around, grabbed her by the arms, and reeled her in for a quick, hard kiss before setting her back down and leaving.

Orihime stared at the door after him for a long moment, feeling dazed as she touched her lips with her fingertips. Everything was still tingling.

A hand at her back steered her toward the bathroom; a little push got her stumbling inside. The shower was already on and steaming up the tiny room. She blinked and realized that Uryuu was standing there, smirking.

“Wash up, get dressed. Hurry. It’ll be over soon.”

“Thanks, Uryuu-kun.” She beamed at him. She felt like she could face anything now. “I’ll be right out!”

He just rolled his eyes at her and went to go read his book.

* * *

But Orihime’s anxiety returned over the course of her shower, and as she dressed and put her hair up in a clip, she felt very worried at what she’d done. What if the soutaichou didn’t like the solution she’d found for Aizen? What if he held her responsible for her liberation from the Onmitsukido by Nemu, and for Ikkaku’s grievous injury?

The thought of the bald third-seat immediately made her feel like a terrible person— she hadn’t even asked about him. Had she been able to restore him to life before being taken away in that cage? And what about Shinji, she was pretty sure she’d rejected him back at least a century— was he okay? Would he be unable to remain a captain?

She left Uryuu at the hospital and launched herself skyward, flash-stepping herself toward First Division with alacrity.

Several of the captains and lieutenants were already gathered in its courtyard. Orihime was immediately swarmed, all of them exclaiming over "the Hueco Mundo mission” and "what she'd done" and how she was "a hero".

She didn't feel very heroic; in fact, she felt about two seconds from upchucking all over Rangiku as that woman gave her a third hug. Rangiku eyed her and quickly summed up the situation.

"Orihime-chan still doesn't feel too well," she announced, and amid a flurry of concerned questions, whisked her away to a bathroom.

Orihime barely had time to thank her before bolting inside and barfing. She hadn't eaten in two days so there was little to come up, but it was still revolting and uncomfortable, causing her to break into a cold sweat as she crouched over the commode.

"Ah, we've all been there, Orihime-chan," Rangiku said, coming into the bathroom and helping her up. "Though in your case, I think it's nerves rather than hangover that's got you worked up."

Orihime nodded weakly and went to the sink, washing her face and rinsing her mouth. "I don't want to get anyone in trouble," she whispered. "Everything that happened is my fault."

Rangiku just rolled her eyes. "Stop being a martyr. Not everything is your fault."

"But the Arrancar wrecked Karakura Town looking for me! They killed dozens of guards and 11th Division soldiers-- including Ikkaku-kun-- to get to me!"

"Ah, so it's _your_ fault Aizen's a nutjob," Rangiku agreed with a smirk. "How'd you manage that?" Then she crossed his arms and waited for Orihime’s reply.

She had no reply, of course. "Well," she began gamely, "uh."

"Exactly. So stop beating yourself up. You did the best you could. We all did, both last time and this time. Ikkaku is already back to being his usual pain in the ass. Now calm down and go tell old Yama-jii what happened so he'll shut up about it."

Orihime took out her hair clip, intending to fix the messy bits coming out of the twist at the back of her head, but Rangiku snatched it from her hands.

"Leave it down," she advised. "Makes you seem younger and more vulnerable; the soutaichou will be easier on you."

Orihime was willing to try anything, at that point.

Hitsugaya knocked on the door and entered, his lips thin with displeasure. "Yamamoto-soutaichou would like to begin," he said, grabbing Rangiku's arm and pulling her out the door.

"I'll be right there." Orihime placed her hands on the edge of the sink and let her weight rest there as she gathered her thoughts. She could do this. With a deep breath, she left the bathroom and made her way down the silent marble hallway toward the meeting chamber, from which she could hear the muted bustle and chatter of over two dozen people as they arranged themselves.

When she stepped inside, silence fell and all eyes settled on her, making her stomach clench again; she put a hand over her belly and pressed, hoping to calm it so she wouldn't have to make another ignominious race to a toilet. The tall door shut behind her. She plastered herself back against it, wishing she could just bolt away.

The room had no furniture. The captains formed a gauntlet of two columns leading to the end of the hall, lieutenants at their sides. There was a prominent space at the front, where the captain-commander Yamamoto was waiting. It was clear that Orihime was to proceed forward and stand before them all.

Ukitake was smiling kindly at her. She latched onto his kindness like she was on the Titanic and it was that stupid door Rose hadn’t let Jack onto, offering him a wobbly smile of her own in return. Beside him, Rukia was offering a tremulous facsimile of a smile. Orihime longed to dash over and hug her, because she looked as worried as Orihime felt.

"Inoue-san, if you will present yourself?" Yamamoto rumbled, indicating the meeting was to begin.

Orihime peeled herself from the door and forced herself to step forward. Her eyes darted to each person as she passed them, trying to gauge their thoughts. Kurotsuchi Mayuri was looking disgruntled, and Nemu had a faint necklace of bruises ringing the base of her throat that had not been there the last time Orihime had seen her. Kenpachi offered her his usual bloodthirsty grin, while Yachiru bounced on his shoulder and waved.

"Hi, Jiggles!" she shouted. "Don't be scared of Yama-jii, he's not as mean as he looks."

The ladies present smiled, the men chuckled, Yamamoto bristled ( _he was so every bit as mean as he looked, dammit_ ) and Orihime, uncomfortable, blushed and folded her hands tightly over her rebelling stomach.

Hitsugaya and Matsumoto both offered her looks of support when she passed them, as did Shuuhei (Kensei stared stonily at the floor) when she came to a stop in the middle of them, and Kyouraku gave her a smile that she could have sworn seemed almost fatherly in its pride. Behind him, Nanao gave Orihime a brisk nod. Iba was inscrutable as always behind his dark glasses, but Komamura actually offered her a shallow bow, which she returned in surprise.

6th Division... Orihime's breath caught as her eyes met Byakuya's for one long, electric moment, and she could barely keep from beaming witlessly at him before she dragged her gaze away to where Renji was broadly grinning. Shinji had taken his place beside Momo, and was still looking confused at all the changes that had occurred in the century or so since his last memory.

Unohana just gazed placidly at her, and Orihime felt warmed, sure that her captain would not let Yamamoto ream her too badly. Isane looked nauseous in sympathy, and Orihime knew the other woman would be just as much of a wreck if she'd had to account for herself before the entire captaincy of the Gotei.

Rose and Kira both nodded respectfully to her, concern plain on their faces. Soi-Fong and Omaeda both looked bored and as if they wished to be anywhere else. Orihime felt the same way, so she couldn't blame them. Then she was facing Yamamoto and his lieutenant, Sasakibe. Both looked entirely humorless.

"Inoue-san--" Yamamoto began, but was interrupted by Unohana sweetly correcting him.

"Inoue- _sensei_ , please, soutaichou. My officer has earned that title from extensive schooling in the Living World."

To Orihime's shock, Yamamoto actually cleared his throat, seeming embarrassed to be corrected, and nodded at his subordinate. Orihime turned a look of adoration to her captain; Unohana just beamed at her.

"Inoue-sensei," Yamamoto began again, shooting Unohana a dark glance from under his thicket of eyebrows, "would you be so kind as to describe to all assembled the occurrences of two days ago, which some--" here, he shot an unfriendly look at Kyouraku— "have named the Hueco Mundo Caper?"

Orihime blinked. "I... would hardly call it a caper. There was absolutely nothing fun about it at all. It was mostly awful." She forced herself to breathe, and launched into her tale.

* * *

"Rukia-chan!"

"Orihime-chan!"

Back in the courtyard of the First Division, they fell into each other's arms, talking and laughing and crying a little all at once. Behind Rukia, Renji was grinning.

"Rukia-chan, I almost wet myself," Orihime confided, her forehead against the other girl's.

"I think I actually did," Rukia replied, and they began to cackle in relief that it was over.

Orihime had told her side of the events that had taken place. Her assertions of innocent motives were confirmed by the testimony of the various officers who had been there (with the exception of Shinji, who didn’t seem to know quite what to do with the knowledge that a century had passed).

Yamamoto decided that Orihime was guilty of no more than insubordination, and sentenced her to a month’s suspension without pay. The opportunity to have that much free time to recuperate from all the excitement and exhaustion actually felt more like a boon than a punishment to her.

And, once the hurdle of admitting her deception to Byakuya was overcome, there was the prospect of spending those four weeks with Byakuya, hopefully working their way through the Kama Sutra…

"If your bankai is that good, Orihime-chan, then maybe you can use it on me," drawled Rangiku as she strolled up with her captain. She glanced down at her bosom. "I need to make sure these girls stay high and perky for a nice long time."

Kyouraku opened his mouth to say something doubtlessly hideously inappropriate; one look from Nanao had him shutting it again with an audible click.

"I think you'll be fine for a while," Orihime said, giggling.

"It is so gratifying to hear such an expression of joy after a tense moment," a calm voice said, and the little group parted to reveal Unohana, smiling in her motherly fashion.

Orihime instinctively put her arms out to hug the woman in gratitude, then dropped them because it was improper to embrace one's captain, wasn't it? She settled for a very low bow, thanking Unohana profusely.

"I will protect my soldiers to the end of my life," Unohana said simply.

Orihime beamed at her until she felt Byakuya approaching, and turned to welcome him, aiming her smile at him next.

“It’s all over!” she exclaimed.

He nodded, his beautiful eyes intent on her. “Now something better begins.”

Their surroundings faded, the others’ conversation blurring into background buzzing. Nothing existed but the two of them, and there was so much there, in that moment: so much potential, so much emotion, so much risk. She had to tell him about the elders. She was terrified of his reaction, of hurting him, of his rejection.

“If I may interrupt…” Unohana said, stepping up to them and taking Orihime’s hand to link their arms companionably. “I would like to give Inoue-sensei a thorough exam before I clear her for official discharge.”

They knew better than to protest. It would accomplish nothing. Unohana would have her way.

“When you are done,” Byakuya said, “come to me. We have much to discuss.”

Orihime gave him a shaky smile, already agitated about the conversation to come. With one last long gaze, Byakuya flash-stepped out of the courtyard.

Unohana nodded to the other captains and lieutenants and flash-stepped herself and Orihime to the Fourth. Rukia and Renji went soon thereafter.

"So Orihime-chan and Byakuya-kun have overcome their problems at last!" said Ukitake, looking very pleased.

"It's strange, that it took so long," Rangiku said. "They've been eye-fucking each other for months now but she kept running away like a terrified rabbit."

"There's something very wrong with that girl," Nanao stated firmly. When they all stared at her in surprise, she shrugged. "If Kuchiki-taichou were pursuing me, you can be sure I would not run away. While I am happy for Orihime-san, I am disappointed that Kuchiki-taichou is no longer unattached."

"Nanao-chan!" exclaimed Kyouraku in distress, his big brown eyes filling with pitiful tears. She swept a contemptuous glance over him.

"It's time to get back to work." Fisting her hand in his garish pink kimono, she flash-stepped them out of the courtyard.

"Ahaha," said Ukitake, looking (and feeling) awkward. "Well, see everyone later!" And he left.

" 'Eye-fucking', Matsumoto?" demanded Hitsugaya in disgust, turning on his heel and walking away. "Always keeping it classy."

"Taichouuuuuuuu," she whined, trotting to keep up with his brisk stride.

* * *

Byakuya did not return to the Sixth Division as he probably should have; he needed some time to himself, after a morning of such import. Shunpou took him to The Thicket, so he could sit in peace and try to arrange his thoughts. He tamped down his reiatsu so no one could find and interrupt him, and sat in the exact spot where they had lain together, watching the stars, after that party a few months ago.

Orihime was safe now; the soutaichou would not be pressing forward with any misguided ideas of treason. He felt relief for that, too, as he had not relished the idea of having to take on his commanding officer if Yamamoto had persisted in his ludicrous assertions of Orihime’s betrayal.

Yet he would have, without flinching, if the alternative would have been Orihime’s imprisonment. As the Kuchiki clan leader, he had many resources within all planes of existence. If he’d had to escape from Soul Society with Orihime to the Living World, he would have done so.

Byakuya felt restless; how long would this exam of Unohana’s take? He was eager to eliminate the mysteries between himself and Orihime, and forge on with their future. He left The Thicket and made his way toward the tea garden.

Reiatsu signatures approached, accompanied by two arguing voices, easily identified: Rukia and Renji. Byakuya thought to announce himself, but Renji’s next words startled him into silence.

"Dammit, Rukia," said his lieutenant. He sounded more resigned than angry. "If you won't marry me, will you at least tell me why?"

_What?_ Byakuya had known since his first meeting with Rukia that there was something between her and her childhood friend, and had always suspected that eventually they would come together. He had even wondered, on occasion, what was taking them so long.

"Argh!" replied Rukia. Byakuya peeked through the leaves of the hedge separating him from them, and saw her raking her hands through her hair in frustration.

"I know you want to," Renji pressed. "I know you love me. You know I would die for you."

Rukia blushed, her face softening.

"You know you can tell me anything, and I'll understand. If it's a problem, I'll solve it for you. Or smash it until it's not a problem anymore. Whatever it takes." He stepped closer, his tall form dwarfing her diminutive one.

Rukia's hands dropped to her sides, forming fists in her hakama. "Alright," she said, her voice low, "but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Or do anything. You're going to be really angry, and you can't do anything. At all. Ever."

"Of course," was his immediately reply.

"I mean it, Renji!" Rukia said sternly. "If you do anything, or tell another soul, I will beat you so hard, you won't be able to shit for two years."

Byakuya could not keep from elevating an eyebrow in amazement. Had that threat-- crude, yet picturesque-- really come from his demure little sister? Granted, she'd been a street ruffian prior to her adoption, but she'd always affected a most proper demeanor in his presence. He had just learned another dimension of his sister.

Renji's dark eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest, but he nodded. "Okay, okay, I promise. I won't lift a finger."

Tough Rukia melted away, replaced by unsure and uneasy Rukia, who went back to torturing the fabric of her hakama. "After Orihime-chan came to stay with us, we were approached by O-jun--"

"She's the oldest of the old farts?" Renji interrupted for clarification.

Rukia nodded and continued, "--who told us that, uh, they don't approve of a match between you and I."

Renji snorted. "Duh. But who cares? Your brother would be on our side, wouldn't he?" He faltered for a moment. "I've proven myself to him, haven't I, after all this time? That I'm worthy of you now?"

Her face softened and she reached to caress his cheek with her tiny hand. "You were always worthy of me, Renji. _Always_. And yes, I believe Nii-sama would champion our cause." She paused. "That would be the problem. O-jun says that Nii-sama's continual breaking of the rules-- first by marrying Hisana, then adopting me-- has eroded their confidence in his fitness to lead the clan."

Byakuya's breath caught. In his belly, anger bloomed. _What was this perfidy?_

"O-jun said that if Nii-sama dishonors the family with another scandal, they will depose him as head." Rukia whispered the last, as if afraid to say such a thing at regular volume.

"Shit." Renji stared down at her, anger marring his own features as well before they creased in confusion. "Wait, you said they told both you and Orihime-chan? Why her too?"

Rukia began to wring her hands, looking truly mournful. "Because they were warning her away from Nii-sama," she said miserably. "Why do you think she was acting so crazy the past few months? She knows that a relationship with Nii-sama would mean his removal as clan leader."

"That's why she-- is that how she got so sick, before? She spent so much time keeping away from Taichou that she collapsed." Renji let out a deep breath. “To protect him.”

Byakuya's control, usually exquisite and seamless, failed him for the first time in his adult life. The bounds he'd placed on his reiatsu melted away, and his power-- the power of a strong captain, in the prime of his life and unfettered by any concern for others' need to breathe-- exploded outward.

"Nii-sama!" Rukia cried, running toward him as he rounded the hedge. She looked terrified, probably with good reason. Byakuya knew his entire body was streaming with rose-colored flames.

"Taichou," said Renji, looking apprehensive, like he was worried he'd have to grapple his captain.

_Hah_ , thought Byakuya. Right now, he'd need the likes of Kenpachi or the soutaichou himself to hold him back. Had he thought he was angry before? No. Anger was a pale, weak cousin to the level of rage coursing through him at that moment. He flash-stepped out of sight.

"Renji, go get Orihime," Rukia ordered, her voice panicked. "She might be able to calm him down." He bolted off, already aloft in shunpou before she finished speaking.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** Hello! So this is the very last chapter of the story. I hope you find it a fitting, satisfactory end to the trials and travails our hero and heroine have overcome. Since you've all been so patient, please enjoy the copious amount of lemon in it. Thanks, as always, to Technoelfie for her unwavering support and enthusiasm as I dragged myself over the finish line.

This is likely to be my last fanfiction, because I'm going to make my best effort at writing original work (as is Technoelfie- I've been fortunate to read a rough draft of her book and it's super good, you guys!). My book will be a paranormal romance, set in a mystical place between Heaven and Hell, with angels and vampires and weres and witches and elves and demons. And sex. Not loads of sex, but like Become a Ghost, there'll be episodes of snogging and at least two humdingers of a sex scene.

When it's ready and able to be purchased, I'll update with another Orihime/Byakuya story (and the book's title, my pen name, etc.) to let you all know. So if you would like to follow me as I shift from fandom to my own work, please put me on author alert!

Two songs I thought would be particularly suitable for our pair this chapter are as follows. Please check them out, I think you'll agree!

Orihime's theme song: Feels Like Home, Chantal Kreviazuk

Byakuya's theme song: In This Life, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

Thank you again for all your faithful readership :) Please review and let me know how you like this conclusion.

 

**Become a Ghost**

**Chapter 30**

 

Byakuya blurred to a stop in the clan's main gathering room. At that time of day, it was empty save for a few servants busily sweeping and polishing its already-pristine interior. At Byakuya's entrance, all but one fainted from the force of his reiatsu. The lone survivor fell to the ground, panting.

"Clan meeting, immediately," he informed the servant. "Gather the elders. Gather _everyone_. They have five minutes to present themselves."

"Hai, Byakuya-sama," the servant replied woozily, and tried to crawl toward the door.

"Nii-sama!" exclaimed Rukia as she arrived, clutching the door jamb with one hand and her side with the other, trying to catch her breath from running so hard. "Nii-sama, listen to me-"

"Rukia, go inform the other captains that there is no need for concern." His reiatsu had, by this time, begun to draw people from all corners of the estate without need for the poor servant to go fetch them. Doubtless the entire Gotei 13 could feel the immense flow of his power and were wondering if Seireitei were under siege. "Tell them I am... handling a clan issue."

"Nii-sama-"

" _Now_ , Rukia."

She paled even further, if possible, but flash-stepped away.

As the room began to fill with Kuchikis, Byakuya stepped onto the dais at the head of the room and turned to the carved box in the wall niche. He opened it to reveal the ceremonial haori he wore for clan business, the one with the elaborate gold figurings suspended from a chain across the chest. It was so stiffly embroidered that it was intensely uncomfortable to wear; also, it was ancient and held the fusty scent of decaying silk and the herbs pressed within its folds, when not in use, to ward off moths and try to stall the ravages of time.

He always wore the itchy, smelly thing when required, because that was his duty, which he had always done, with flawless dedication. He tore the robe from the chest and turned back to the growing crowd, letting the old bundle of sacred fabric trail heedlessly on the tatami.

The senior members of the Kuchiki family had assembled by this time. They all stared at him; the younger ones with trepidation, the older with disdain and some even with a hint of haughty satisfaction, as if they had always known he'd come to this sad end and were pleased to have been proven right.

O-jun appeared at the entrance; the crowd fell back on either side to leave a clear path between her and Byakuya. She walked- no, she _strolled_ \- up the aisle until she stood directly before him and sketched a barely-respectful bow.

"To what can this one attribute the honor of this... impromptu meeting, Byakuya-sama?" she asked, her tone bordering on insolent. Rukia slipped in from a side door, followed by her captain and Kyouraku-taichou, and watched with huge eyes. She'd probably thought that having those captains present, as members of fellow noble clans, might somehow... help?

"I wish to inform the clan that I have granted permission for my sister Rukia to marry my lieutenant, Abarai Renji," he replied icily. Rukia's mouth dropped open. Ukitake placed a hand on her shoulder; whether to restrain, comfort, or congratulate, Byakuya could not tell. "Am I to expect dissent as a result of this approval?"

"It pains this one to say that the clan does not find this an appropriate decision, Byakuya-sama," O-jun said. Despite her age, and the fact that she had to be struggling to hold her composure in the face of Byakuya's roiling power, her voice did not waver at all, nor did her posture slump.

"The clan believes that inclusion of a commoner will weaken it. The clan feels that supporting such a union is proof that Byakuya-sama's judgment is not of the soundness needed to lead as the scion of the Kuchiki family should."

"The commoner of whom you speak has raised himself from poverty and deprivation to a position of strength and power held only by the elite of Soul Society," Byakuya informed her. "You do not find him worthy?"

"Of your sister: yes, Byakuya-sama," said O-jun. "Of the Kuchikis: no."

From his peripheral vision, Byakuya could see Rukia flinch at the insult. His reiatsu flared even higher, and the bulk of the people in the room, who'd been barely managing to stay upright, dropped to the floor like rocks. O-jun sank, a trifle gracelessly, to her knees, where she ought to have been from the beginning when addressing the head of her clan.

"My lieutenant has conducted himself with honor and loyalty for decades, and has achieved bankai, the highest rank of ability possible. He has fought at my side numerous times, and contributed to the salvation of the world, including your own _esteemed_ existence, on several occasions." He raked a contemptuous glance over her. "And you cannot even _stand_ before me."

O-jun's hands had begun to tremble. "Byakuya-sama, the clan-"

"And what of Inoue Orihime?" he continued, interrupting carelessly. "She, too, is not of sufficient class for the illustrious Kuchikis?"

He could feel her coming closer; Rukia had probably sent for her in hopes that she would be able to keep him from acting on the cauterizing fury he felt. "She has worked tirelessly to protect Soul Society, risking her life even before it was her duty as a shinigami, to save the world- including your own _valuable_ existence."

Again, he pushed out with his reiatsu. The entire room was tinged pink from the force of it, the walls were starting to quake, and the air was shimmering. Rose-colored flames were streaming from him; he was sure he looked demonic. Everyone but the strongest were passing out from the force of it.

Orihime dashed into the room, Renji on her heels, and skidded to a stop, her eyes wide and worried. Byakuya's heart gave an ecstatic leap at the sight of her, but it did not distract him from the point he was making to his family.

"She can _raise the dead_ ," he informed O-jun. His voice was a frozen whiplash, but his eyes were only for Orihime. Awareness was an arc of lightning between them. With effort, he dragged his attention back to the old woman on the floor. "And you cannot even _breathe_ before me."

* * *

"Renji-kun, what's happened?" Orihime asked as they pelted toward the Kuchiki estate. He'd fetched her from her physical exam with no more than a breathless apology to Unohana-taichou before grabbing her arm and flash-stepping from the room.

"He heard Rukia and me talking about O-Jun's warning about us getting married, or you having anything to do with Taichou," he replied with a grim sideways glance. "You better hurry."

Orihime's breath caught. _Oh, god._ This is exactly what she had feared so hard, for so long. And now there was nothing she could do to prevent it. The thought of the humiliation Byakuya would surely feel, when deposed as leader of his clan, made her stomach feel like it was plummeting to her feet.

Byakuya's ferocious power was evident before they'd even left Fourth Division. Orihime shivered; he'd told her, those months ago when she'd just died, that if he failed to control himself he'd reduce the world to a smoking crater. She looked around the estate as they touched down; it was definitely looking a bit smoky around the edges.

"Shit," muttered Renji.

They tracked the flow of reiatsu to the huge gathering room. What they found there was at the same time both better and worse than what Orihime had expected; Byakuya standing on the dais, looming over everyone with the coldest expression on his face she'd ever seen. Bodies were strewn everywhere, but there was no blood (yet). A good sign?

Rukia stood to one side with Captains Ukitake and Kyouraku, both of whom had their hands resting not-so-casually on the hilts of their zanpakutous.

"She can _raise the dead_ ," Byakuya was saying to that awful old lady who'd been so rude to Rukia before. He looked just as he had when she'd first met him as a Ryouka invading Soul Society: an icy, pitiless lord, unapproachable and deadly.

But she knew what fires burned behind the ice, and his eyes, when they met hers, were silver flames. He glanced with contempt back at O-jun, sagging on the tatami. "And you cannot even _breathe_ before me."

Orihime was feeling a little breathless herself. O-jun could barely raise her head from the floor. Her lips had begun to turn blue, in fact. Rukia's hand shot out and clasped Orihime's in a death grip. It was really starting to look like Byakuya was going to kill all these people, and that would be pretty bad.

"Byakuya," Orihime said softly, her voice clear over a silence marred only by the gasps of those struggling for air. He met her gaze.

Wordlessly, she begged him for the mercy his family had not shown her.

Wordlessly, Byakuya promised to do anything she wanted of him.

He rolled his reiatsu back in, controlling it until the bodies on the floor began to stir. O-jun struggled to her knees and stared at him, clearly speechless.

"You owe your lives to the woman you deem unworthy of this family," he informed the elderly woman. "It is only because she asks it that I spare you."

"So you feel another would suit the clan better as leader. Another who would bring more prestige, more wealth, more _honor_ to the family, since I have been so lax in my duty." Byakuya raised the robe still clenched in his fist, letting everyone see it. "If such a paragon exists, let him come."

He tossed the robe to the floor, letting the aged silk flutter to the tatami below the dais, where it crumpled in a sad heap.

There was silence. Not one person moved.

"None of you are brave enough to take the role of family head from my hands? None of you strong enough? Surely not."

He continued to wait. And wait.

After another long, fraught moment, he said, "I will assume, by the complete lack of respondents, that no other is so well suited for this role. I declare myself confirmed as Kuchiki clan leader."

O-jun sliced a glare at Kuchiki Ginrei, watching silently from a back corner. He alone of the elders had remained upright during Byakuya's display of rage.

"Ginrei-sama, have you no counsel for your grandson? Will you do nothing to prevent this?" she croaked.

Ginrei stepped forward. "There is no wisdom I could offer superior to his own, and he has surpassed me in power. Even were I inclined to stop him, I have not the strength to do so."

He bowed to his grandson, and stepped back into the corner. Byakuya felt a shock right down to his feet; never had he dreamed that his grandfather, long the most powerful man in his life, and always the greatest influence in it, would praise him so publicly. And he had never thought he could ever achieve the same levels of ability; to know that Ginrei believed Byakuya to have surpassed him was a humbling experience that he would examine at a later, less fraught time.

For now, the family members began to stand, brushing themselves off and murmuring with shocked faces as they started to file out the door. Rukia turned into Renji's embrace, and he held her close as she wept, just a little, in relief. Orihime took a step toward Byakuya, but he was not yet done.

"I announce my resignation as Kuchiki family head."

Another silence, this time absolute.

"Byakuya-sama." O-jun, bless her heart, would not go down without a fight. "You cannot-"

"I find the clan undeserving of my attentions and efforts. I will not waste my time leading a group of fools."

O-jun went from pale to gray. "But-"

"You will leave my estate within the hour. Because I am kind-" here, more than a few Kuchikis uttered disbelieving noises before Byakuya's frosty glance raked over and subdued them once more "-I will permit you to bring with you whatever possessions I have generously purchased for your use."

"Oh, I wish I knew what was going on," moaned Orihime. She was so, so confused.

"You and me both," Renji muttered.

"It's great," Kyouraku hooted. "He's the direct descendant of the first Kuchiki, and the official owner of the estate and all Kuchiki wealth. If they'd deposed him, effectively firing him, he'd have had to leave in disgrace."

"But since he stepped down on his own," Ukitake continued, "effectively firing _them_ , they're the ones who must leave."

"It's like a corporate takeover," Orihime said in astonishment.

"Oh, it's brilliant," crowed Kyouraku. "Wish I'd thought of it. Wish I could _do_ it; the elders in my clan are just as bad as this clutch of old vampires."

"Wussy," Ukitake said genially, grinning when Kyouraku elbowed him in the ribs.

Byakuya stared at O-jun in hostile silence until she touched her wrinkled forehead to the floor, stood, and wobbled out the room after all the others, leaving only the shinigami to remain.

The moment the door shut behind O-jun, a blur flew at him, and suddenly his arms were full of Orihime. She was crying, of course. She locked her arms around his neck and clung like a limpet in particular fear of being dislodged as she wept into his neck.

He would not ever be dislodging her; Byakuya would let her cling to him as long as she wanted. Hopefully for at least the next century.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I tried so hard to keep any of this from happening. I tried to keep from falling in love with you, but it didn't work. Then I tried to pretend I wasn't in love with you, but that didn't work, either."

Her face was wet, her nose was red and starting to run, and her cheeks were blotchy. Byakuya thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Of course it didn't work. You're a terrible liar, and a worse actress. You convinced absolutely no one in your attempts to pretend you hold no affection for me. Least of all me."

He chose to conveniently ignore the existence of that horrible period between her defection from the estate to her quarters at the Fourth, and his realization after she'd healed his broken knee. Using the hem of his sleeve, he tenderly wiped her cheeks as she gaped up at him.

"All you did was make both of us miserable. Why did you not have faith in me?"

Orihime's mouth worked silently, fishlike, for several seconds. "Well, mostly because I didn't know you could do what you just did," she said at last. "That was pretty amazing. And sexy. I shouldn't find it sexy, because it was really mean. You almost killed those old people!" She sighed. "I'm in love with a violent man of uncontrolled passions." She peered hopefully up at him, wanting him to take the hint.

Take it he did; he laughed, shocking everyone present (including himself), then flash-stepped them from the room. They blurred to a stop in The Thicket.

He curled his arms tighter around Orihime, exulting in her reciprocal embrace, and kissed her as if she held the secrets of the universe within her. Possibly she did; if how he'd felt that horrendous time was any indication, life without her would not be much worth living. With any luck, it was not a prospect he would have to endure again for a very long time. Hopefully forever.

"Never keep a secret from me again," he commanded gently when they parted at last. "Even if you think it will hurt me, even if you think there is no solution."

"I won't," Orihime agreed instantly. "Never, ever, ever, ever, ever. Never."

_Ridiculous_. He kissed her again, so deeply she appeared drugged when they pulled back.

"Unf," she panted, "you are the best kisser."

"How many other men have you kissed?"

"At least..." Orihime had to stop and think. "At least three. Maybe four; I was really tipsy at one of those pub crawls, and Shuuhei-kun was pretty handsy that night, so odds are good that- unf."

When he stopped kissing her this time, Byakuya told her, very sternly, "You will not be kissing Hisagi-fukutaichou again."

She smiled dopily at him. "Nope."

"And you will stop cuddling Hitsugaya-taichou and Hanatarou-san."

"But they're- okay. No more cuddling."

"You're lying again. Or trying to."

"No, I'm- okay, I am. But I really _like_ cuddling them, and they're _no_ threat to you at all, believe me!" She snuggled more deeply against him and planted a kiss on his chin. "You have nothing to worry about. There isn't a man alive or dead that could tempt me away from you. I practically get a nosebleed every time I look at you. I've used all my batteries up, thinking about you."

It was Byakuya's turn to gape. His mind was flooded by the strangest melange of images: Orihime, tongue lolling out cartoonishly as she panted in lust, with blood streaming in a geyser from her face; Orihime, spread-eagle on her bed, pleasuring herself with one of those lewd toys from the Living World. She threw back her head and laughed at the feel of his very confused erection suddenly pressing into her belly.

"Perhaps another trip to the Living World is in order," he said then, after clearing his throat, "to purchase more? Because I am interested in learning about how they are used."

Orihime touched another kiss to him, this time in the hollow of his throat, before trailing the tip of her tongue up. "I have to admit, I admire your commitment to scholarship."

"I am nothing if not a dedicated pupil of modern technology," Byakuya murmured. His hand came up to cup her head, fingers threading through her hair to press her closer as she tormented him with her mouth.

"I don't think we need any modern technology right now, though," she continued, sounding both avid and shy at the same time, somehow. He found it bewitching and ran his other hand down her back to her luscious backside, grasping a palmful with deep satisfaction.

"You are correct. The old analog methodology will suit us quite well, I feel," he managed to gasp. She was sucking on his earlobe now, and her hands had wormed their way inside his kosode to stroke his chest and shoulders, grazing his nipples with a more-than-coincidental frequency.

"More specifically, a bed," Orihime stated. "Or even just a horizontal surface, at this point. I'm not particular, as long as I get to make love to you."

Byakuya felt more speech would be superfluous at best; his response was to flash-step them to his bed chamber. They blurred to a halt in the center of the room, which was empty as always during the daytime. He peeled himself away from her to yank the futon from the closet and spread it out with an impatient shake.

When he turned back to her, it was to find she had shucked her kosode, dropped her hakama, and was just shrugging her shitagi from her shoulders. The sight of her bare legs and the creamy skin being revealed, inch by inch as the garment slid from her, struck him speechless.

"I didn't want to waste any more time," she said in a small, sheepish voice. "We've wasted too much time as it is."

He could not possibly have agreed more, and began to pull off his own uniform. His mind coursed with the mental images he had collected so lovingly over the past months, of acts he wanted to do to her, and with her, and his erection— merely half-hopeful before— twitched into a state of full, eager excitement.

"I just hope you can forgive me," she was saying, head downcast as she stood there in nothing but her underwear, the very picture of sorrow. It was somehow ludicrous and intensely stimulating at the same time. "For lying and keeping us apart for so long."

"I will always forgive you," he replied thickly, feeling dazed at her nearness, and her nakedness, and their imminent debauchery. "But can we postpone the guilt-laden self-flagellation for another time?"

She looked up at him then, her eyes and mouth both rounding in surprise, because he was fully naked and extremely aroused.

"Ohmygod," she muttered, her eyes latched onto his groin, and swayed on her feet. "Could you please kiss me now? Because you are incredibly sexy and I love you very much and I think I'm going to catch on fire."

"Orihime," he breathed, gathering her against him. He couldn't kiss her yet, had to hold her, had to feel her against his body, had to just experience what it was like to have his love returned. Waves of adoration rolled through him, mingling with relief and satisfaction. He pressed his cheek to her hair, inhaled the fresh green scent of her.

_Mine_ , his soul sang. _This is mine. This woman is mine. This love is mine._

Her arms came around him, her hands clutching his shoulders with force, as if she were terrified of letting go. She buried her face against his chest and shuddered, then relaxed against him.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you," she mumbled. "I have no idea what I'm doing and I think maybe my judgment is pretty bad, so I make awful decisions."

Byakuya's libido was asserting itself with a vengeance; Orihime's bottom was lush in his hands, and the supple fullness of her breasts against his chest had his mouth going dry with lust. Her lips were pink and her skin was smooth and her entire body was soft and welcoming...

"You are young," he replied. "I forget, sometimes, how young you are. You will learn. I will help you."

She lifted heavy-lidded eyes to him, gleaming with excitement, and it was all he could do to keep from pushing her to the futon and flinging himself on top of her. Byakuya gave her backside a squeeze; his mouth swallowed her little hiccup of surprise, and then she was kissing him back in a voluptuous slide of lips and tongues.

This was nothing like the first giddy kiss in the park in Karakura Town, nor the tentative explorations they'd enjoyed that sake-soaked night in The Thicket after the party, nor even their kisses of relief in the hospital room earlier. This was a kiss that swung heavy and low with intent, with full knowledge that there would be no more delay, no more avoidance.

Byakuya slid his hands up her neck to bury his fingers in her hair, making the long chestnut waves tumble around her shoulders. The silk of her skin under his fingertips had him groaning into her mouth, to be answered with a moan of her own.

Orihime felt gluttonous, like she couldn't get enough of him: his scent, his taste, his feel, his strength. She had known he loved her, but now she _knew_ he loved her. It was no longer an unspoken thing, quivering between them but formless, like some weird jello monster. She was well accustomed to what it was like to have love rock her, to sway from the force of it in her chest, but the exultation of having that love returned, the sheer blinding joy of it- this was new, this was immense and frightening and unbelievable, all at the same time.

She couldn't stop running her hands over him, memorizing the sensation of his skin, the rolling muscles beneath, the heat of him. His cock jutted heavily against her, and she twisted until it shifted from its place against her belly, down to fit against the apex of her legs.

"Mmm, better," she murmured against his lips, hungry for stimulation there. Byakuya gasped, rubbing her back and forth against him with his hands on her hips.

She had just managed to grab herself a handful of beautifully-muscled ass when Byakuya began to sink toward the floor. Orihime, unwilling to be parted from him for even a moment, followed him down.

Byakuya had pushed down the cups of her bra and was playing with her breasts like a man who'd never seen any before: squeezing, fondling, rubbing with an almost childlike delight. Once they were kneeling before each other on the futon, he pulled his mouth from hers and bent his head to her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard enough to have Orihime crying out in shocked pleasure, glad they were already off their feet or she'd have toppled over.

"Byakuya, that's so good," she whispered, rocking helplessly against him.

"I have dreamed of this," he muttered against her before drawing her other nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue in a complicated maneuver around it. "They are even better than I had imagined."

Orihime would have laughed at that, except she was feeling the same way about him. His skin was like hot satin, and her hands couldn't get enough of running over him. She was feeling restless, though, and needed to feel more of him against her. She twisted her arms behind her back so she could unfasten her bra, then shimmied her arms until she could tug it off. That left her clad in only her panties, which Byakuya was at that moment peeling off her.

When they were finally bared to each other, he raised his head (with some reluctance, it must be noted) from her breasts and allowed himself a slow, leisurely perusal of her form. Orihime would have felt self-conscious, except that the rampant appreciation and lust apparent on his face settled any qualms she might have had about herself. She was feeling rather appreciative herself; she was ravenous as she stared at his shoulders, chest, arms, and belly; at the long muscles of his thighs and the impressive cock-stand at their juncture.

Orihime clasped his prick in her hands, feeling the heat pouring off him, observing his very gratifying reaction of arching himself more firmly into her touch, head cast back. She lay back on the heap of her discarded uniform; like steel to a magnet, Byakuya followed, prowling over her reclining body on all fours.

"I… I haven't done this before with anyone else," she whispered. "I hope I'm not bad at it."

"I have not done it much myself," Byakuya replied after a pause. He trailed one hand up between her thighs, which fell apart as if he'd said _open sesame_. "Ah, how pretty you are, here."

He ran a finger along the split at her center, parting her further, sliding easily through the wetness there before he glanced up. "You do not mind that I won't take more time before we…?"

"God, no," Orihime groaned, her arms going around his waist and tugging him closer. He lowered himself into the cradle of her hips and they both gasped at the contact and the heat. "If we have to wait much longer, I think I'll die."

"Mmhmm," he murmured, taking her lips in another luxurious kiss as he fitted himself against her. With a thrust he slid in, and they both groaned in relief.

"Ohhhhh!" gasped Orihime in wonder. She'd been penetrated before, by her sex toys, but it had never been like this, searing heat stretching her, the press of a body all along her own.

And it was _Byakuya_ , for whom she had longed these endless months. The emptiness within had finally been filled, the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle of her life fitted into place. With him inside her, she was complete.

"I love you," she told him, sighing as he filled her again and again.

Byakuya slid one arm under her back, gathering her close, and cupped the back of her head with the other. He buried his face against her neck, moving with almost heartbreaking earnestness against her.

Orihime felt tenderness rise up within her, warring with the pleasure that rippled outward from her center, threatening to shatter her with its intensity as it grew. She wrapped her legs higher and tighter around him, feeling him go just a little deeper than before. She wanted to take all of him inside, just surround his entire body with hers.

"If only," he muttered in her ear, and she realized she must have been speaking out loud. The sensations roiling through her began to take on a more frantic feel, and she moved against him with more purpose as her goal shimmered in the distance.

"Come with me," Byakuya murmured into the shell of her ear.

His voice had always made her shiver with longing, and to hear it soaked in blatant need and love— _for her_ — caused the tension in Orihime to snap. Her entire world narrowed down to an endless cycle of spasm and release, spasm and release as she wailed in rapture.

Blinded, almost deafened, she was only dimly aware of his choked gasp at the feel of her climax around him, and with a savage thrust, Byakuya followed her. He moaned brokenly into her hair, his hips pummeling hers, his arms shaking around her.

Orihime panted, then realized the reason she was having so much trouble breathing was because she was holding Byakuya just that tightly. She loosened her grasp and they both sucked in great lungfuls of air.

"Sorry," she said, a little sheepish.

"I forgive you," he replied graciously, and licked a bead of sweat from her throat. "That was…" He trailed off, shaking his head in amazement, apparently at a total loss for words.

"Yeah, it really was," she agreed dreamily as she ran her hands lightly up and down the smoothness of his back. "I can't wait to tell Tatsuki."

He left off dropping kisses along her neck to rear back and meet her eyes. "You will tell her about _this_?"

A laugh burst from Orihime. "No, just how everything has resolved. Though," she said, consideringly, worryingly, "I do feel like everyone should know how amazing you are. I feel like I should take out a full-page ad in Seireitei Monthly: 'I made love with the glorious Kuchiki Byakuya and it was incredible!' "

He relaxed again and smiled. Well, his lips curled up at the corners. A little. "Then I shall place an ad on the other side of the page that reads, 'I made love with the radiant Inoue Orihime and it was beyond compare.' "

"Radiant, huh?" she beamed up at him, yes, radiant, and glowing, and ethereal and every other superlative his addled brain could think up at that moment.

"If I am 'glorious', then you are 'radiant'," Byakuya told her. "My pride will accept no less."

She just hugged him tight, with arms and legs and those delightful secret inner workings of hers that had his eyes almost crossing as arousal flashed through him like a stab to the solar plexus.

Orihime's face went through a lightning-fast shift of emotions, from confusion to comprehension to a sort of erotic knowledge that should have looked foreign on her, but was instead perfectly at home. She might be an innocent, but she had the instincts of a seasoned courtesan.

"Ahh, that feels wonnnnnnnderrful," she purred in his ear, with a languorous stretch beneath him.

It certainly did, and merited further exploration. But…

"You are not too sore? Too tired?"

Orihime placed her hands along his face, her gaze exquisitely tender, and he could have sworn he saw stars in her eyes.

"Never," she whispered. "Never too anything, for you."

So he kissed her, and they began again.


End file.
